Twin Dynasties
by wtfareu
Summary: Westeros is torn in half during Robert's Rebellion. A slight change on the Trident makes the biggest difference. Three Kings will reign in Westeros during the rebellion. Two Kings will reign when it ends.
1. War of the Upsurpers

**I do not own ASOIAF, and this will be my first attempt at an ASOIAF fanfic. The point of this story is to write of a different dynasty ruling Westeros, or rather two separate ones. These first few chapters will act as a prologue to what I have in Mind. The goal is to set up two Kingdoms, one of the North, and one of the South.**

283 AC

Eddard Stark

Ice was his father's blade for decades, the blade of his brother by right, and now his blade by duty. Ice was far more than dragon forged steel, more than a priceless artifact, and much more than a tool of war. Ice was the North. As northern as the Starks of Winterfell or the Old Gods. Ice was the family blade of the Starks, the Lords of the North for centuries. Before that, the blade of Kings of Winter for thousands of years.

Every Stark Lord held the blade at some point in their life. Bran the Builder was the first Stark, and likewise, he was the first to wield the blade. Theon Stark, the Hungry Wolf, held the blade in hand as he fought back the Ironborn. Every king of Winter, every lord of Winterfell, and every Stark used Ice. Eddard Stark was not different to them in any notable way. Except, he was different than one Stark. Torrhen Stark, the King who knelt.

Near 300 years ago, Torrhen Stark knelt to the Targaryen invaders. Eddard is the first Stark to stand against the Dragon Lords in 300 years, and the first Stark to break his oath to the Targaryans.

Now on the Trident, a literal hellscape, he fought with Ice for the North, and for his family. He fought valiantly and with courage, yet he was hardly the only one.

The Greatjon Umber, Roose Bolton, Maege Mormont, Rickard Karstark, Howland Reed, Lord Willam Dustin, Ethan Glover, Martyn Cassel, Theo Wull, and Ser Mark Ryswell, all followed him into battle. Half the Lords of the North were with their liege lord. They fought for the North, and they fought together.

They should be fighting for Brandon or Father, but the Mad King gave them no choice, Ned thought solemnly. Now they stood in the ruins of their enemy's vanguard. There was no time for contemplating the past, only in preparing for the battles to come.

Ned Stark always hated battle. The smell of shit and death invaded his nostrils. He had little previous experience with war. But even in his youth, the stories horrified him to a certain extent. In the past, he could never comprehend the point of sacrificing thousands of lives for power. Now he understood war a bit better, this wasn't a war for power. It was a war for justice. Justice for his father, his brother, and his dear sister Lyanna. Justice for the North, and justice for the Stormlands. At least that's what he always thought. Now, his blade dripped with blood, his shoes were dirtied with shit and death, and he couldn't help but wonder about his definition of justice. The farmer he just killed, was that justice? Was it justice to kill the men who fought bravely for their King? He frankly couldn't say.

"My Lord," Roose exclaimed, even now his voice barely above a whisper, "We should head back, were too far ahead of our own forces. If we're not careful, we'll be surrounded." His sword was glistening crimson, and his doublet was ripped and torn in the front. Just like Eddard, he only wore light armor, which consisted of ringmail and dark boiled leather. The Flayed Man of House Bolton was emblazoned on a leather sash which fastened his Cloak.

"Piss on that Stark, you're no Craven." The GreatJon Umber exclaimed. In the brief period, they knew each other, Ned found the man extremely honorable and loyal to a fault. The only issue was the man was a bit too eager to prove himself. "If we keep this up, there won't be an Army left to stop us. After we shatter these flowery southerners, we can march straight to King's Landing. We'll end that tyrannical Bastard like he did Lord Rickard." His voice dropped off, unsure if he should mention his former Liege Lords tragic Death. "Pardons, My Lord," He mumbled softly.

"Possibly, or someone could get Lucky and deliver a spear to Lord Stark's Chest." Roose Bolton made a point of ignoring the glares his fellow northerners sent his way. "Regardless, all of us would be safer by our own lines. I rather be an alive craven, then a dead hero."

"We all know you rather be a craven Bolton," The Greatjon growled out.

"If you wish to be dead, you might get your wish sooner than you think Umber" Bolton stated calmly, not even turning to meet the Greatjon's gaze.

"Aye, you both have valid points." Ned stepped in before the argument could spiral out of hand. His father always taught him, it was a lords duty to keep the peace. "We'll move back, but we won't go behind our own lines. Our men won't fight for us if we won't fight for them." His fellow lords nodded in agreement. He gestured for his men to fall back with him.

As Ned turned his back on the battle, something felt amiss. Maege Mormont let out a gasp of surprise, her hand rising to cover her mouth as soon as it was released. Ned simply looked over, eyes widening slightly as he turned. Ned's grip on Ice tightened, his knuckles turning white as he did, he ran forward ignoring the yells of his bannerman to wait. A feeling a shock and fear surged through the lord's body as he ran forward, ignoring the weight of his armor, and pushing himself harder than he ever had before.

Prince Rhaegar stood triumphantly, his sword raised in the air. The blade slashed downwards cutting deeply into the injured form of Robert Baratheon. The man Ned considered his brother was dead on his feet. Instead of parrying the slash with his Warhammer, he simply stepped back. It wasn't lethal, but it certainly ended the fight. Robert's antlered helm was knocked to the side, and the sigil on his chest was more red then yellow at this point. The last slash of Prince Rhaegar's blade cut through his armor like cheap tin. The glint of Valyrian steel shone from Rhaegar's blade.

Ned's feet bounded forward, reinvigorated with a strength he didn't know he had. Ice cut through foe after foe as his bannermen began to trail behind. As Ned moved forward, he caught a glimpse of a white cloak heading towards his side. He had no time to turn and meet the member of the Kingsguard head on. Luckily, Maege Mormont's morningstar swung out, forcing the knight to move back. Before the Kingsguard could strike again, Roose Bolton joined the fight, followed by the other Northerners.

Lewyn Martell, Barristan Selmy, and Jon Darry clashed with Ned's bannerman. It was ten against three, and Ned still didn't like their odds. Ned continued to run past the Kingsguard as his own men clashed against them. He only stopped briefly to block a strike by Lewyn Martell, right before the Greatjon took the young Prince on as an opponent.

He blocked out the fear he had for his men's safety, he would also forego worrying about Robert, for the first time in his life, Ned Stark made the conscious decision to be selfish. He would only worry for his own well being.

Ice swung at Rhaegar's face. The Targaryen took a step back, allowing the blade to coast past its intended target. Violet eyes widened when Rhaegar realized who he was fighting. He blocked the next few strikes of Ned Stark effortlessly. He opened his mouth a few times to try and speak, but it was evident couldn't find the words.

For all of his faults, which there were many. The crowned Prince was no coward or craven, in spite of what Robert too often claimed. Rhaegar fought like a man possessed. In Spite of the princes many wounds and how tired Rhaegar must have been, he stayed on the offensive against the Warden of the North. Rhaegar's swings were barely deflected, and he continued to push Ned back.

"Lord Stark." Rhaegar began as they crossed blades again. " This was never supposed to happen, Lyanna."

"Enough!" Ned shouted as Ice slammed downwards, stopping Rhaegar's words in his throat. "After everything that has happened, do you think you can speak her name to me? You honestly believe you can address me with niceties, talk of Lyanna like your old friends, and explain yourself?" Ned's sword strikes didn't stop, similarly, Rhaegar never stopped parrying. "The Time for words has long since passed prince," Ned said the title with disgust, "and no matter what you say, there is little to nothing you can do to change the outcome of this war."

The two were stuck against one another, blade to blade. " On that, you're wrong Lord Stark." the Prince swung out slightly, his blade cutting through lord Stark's leather armor, but not quite reaching the skin underneath.

"Am I?" Their blades clashed again, suddenly Ned's fist struck out. Slamming into the side of the Prince's face. Rhaegar stumbled back, a tinge of blood dripped from his lower lip. Ned pressed his advantage. "You caused this," Ned bellowed. His blade slashing at Rhaegar's arm and slicing through his dark armor into the flesh underneath. Another parry, and then Ned was able to get a slice at Rhaegar's thigh. Both blows were nothing more than shallow cuts but still succeeded in slowing down the Prince.

"Enough!" The Prince shouted, and suddenly changed form. A blow would have decapitated the Lord of Winterfell if he didn't move at the right moment. Instead, it left a shallow cut on his cheek. Two more parry's, and then Rhaegar struck out again, slicing through the back of Stark's leg, and nearly bringing the young lord to his knees.

"Ned!" Robert shouted, but it sounded more like a death wail. "Don't! You can't die, fall back, think of Benjen!" The man continued to shout, although he was beginning to lose the strength in his voice. Out of the two of them, Robert has always been the better warrior. Throughout all the duels they had throughout their childhood, Ned has never beaten Robert. A fact that stayed in the back of his mind as he fought Rhaegar. The only man he knew of, that had ever beat Robert.

Rhaegar's valyrian steel blade bit into Ned's left shoulder, causing him to gasp in agony. Ned parried another few blows only using his right hand but found he was only tiring himself. Rhaegar struck out again at his leg, this time slicing through the back of his knee to the bone.

Ned's right knee collapsed, and Ned found himself in the dirt. Fighting the Prince of Westeros one handed in a desperate attempt to avoid the same fate as his father and brother. The Stark lord was losing, that much was clear, and Roberts shouting in the background only served to distract Ned.

Rhaegar moved quickly, and with a few precise movements, knocked Ice out of Ned's hands. The ancestral blade flew away, embedding itself into the ground, Ned wasn't positive, but he was sure he could hear the Greatjon cursing in the background. Ned ignored the cursing of his friend and bannerman, instead, he stared at his blade. It felt like he was watching his family die.

Eddard's cheek dripped blood, dripping into his mouth and giving him a bitter taste of defeat. Ned's left arm was nothing more than dead weight and screamed in agony when he tried to move it. Ned's right leg was even worse than his arm. Rhaegar cut down the appendage nearly to the bone, and if he went an inch or two deeper, lord Stark would likely never walk again. Ice was gone to him, an odd but accurate metaphor of the state of his family. A small dagger was his only weapon, fashioned to his belt, suddenly Ned remembered it was a gift from Lyanna the last time that he saw her. Eddard stayed still, unsure of what to do.

"Yield?" Rhaegar asked, his blade pointed at Ned's throat.

"Ned!" Robert's booming voice grabbed their attention. No one truly expected the injured Baratheon to charge Rhaegar, especially without a weapon. It came as a surprise to Ned when Robert tackled Rhaegar to the ground. The dragon and the stag collapsed to the muddied floor in a tangle of limbs. Robert lay on top of the Prince. The young Baratheon was still bleeding profusely from his chest, and a bit of blood and spit dribbled from his mouth. Even so, the Baratheon lord hammered the prince with blows. Striking his massive fists into his prince's face with apparent glee. Robert continued yelling the entire time, yelling for his chosen brother, Ned Stark, for his love Lyanna, and for vengeance.

"You think you get to take him from me too?" Robert asked after particular savage strike to Rhaegar's face. "Not fucking likely!" Barristan Selmy and Lewyn Martell stared shocked, and mouths agape. Ned's remaining bannermen stood in their way, preventing them from helping their prince.

As Rhaegar made a move to reach for his blade, Ned threw himself forward, wrestling the Prince's arm down.

The two lords and their prince struggled on the ground together, the lord of the North still on Rhaegar's arm. Laying in a state of near exhaustion as his injuries began to take their toll. Robert continued brutalizing the young prince with his grieved hands.

Rhaegar jerked slightly, thrashing violently, and succeeded in knocking Robert off him. As Robert fell, Rhaegar acted swiftly, slamming his hand into Ned Stark's face, breaking Stark's nose in the process. Rhaegar's sword arm was now free, and he made a mad dash for the blade that was out of reach a second ago. On his way to his sword, he essentially crawled over Ned Stark.

As the heavy weight of Rhaegar's body pressed on him, Ned reacted without thinking. The dagger Lyanna gave him was in his hands before he knew it, and Rhaegar's throat was split ear to ear before either man fully comprehended what was happening,

The dagger slashed through flesh and veins. The Prince's neck became enveloped in crimson rain as blood gushed forth from the open wound. A soft gurgling noise managed to escape Rhaegar as he tried to speak, but words just wouldn't come. Violet eyes shone with anger, and Ned could have sworn he saw a look of betrayal. As he collapsed to the ground in a pool of his own blood, Ned and Robert would later swear they heard him whisper the name, Lyanna.

It was over, yet it wasn't. The prince was defeated, killed by his own hand, but Ned could hear the clash of blades continuing. The Stark lord looked over to see Robert flat on his back, laughing with apparent joy at his enemy's death.

The laughter ended suddenly, a Dornishmen ran forward, kicking Robert squarely in the jaw, chipping a tooth in the process. The Baratheon lord's head sprung back, crashing to the ground, knocking the once gleeful man into unconsciousness. Ned's apparent surprise at the situation, quickly turned to dread, suddenly the Dornishmen began to charge him. Just before the Dornishman reached Ned, Roose Bolton tackled the man to the ground. Roose's blade was slick with the blood of Barristan the Bold as he stabbed in the throat of Ned's assailant.

Ned's bannermen appeared as suddenly as the Dornish. The Greatjon was bashing in the head of a man, even as a dagger shifted into his shoulder blade. Howland Reed and Maege Mormont were equally vicious, slashing men to pieces with skill and grace more suited to a faceless man of Braavos then a Northern warrior.

It was true that the Northern Lords had the advantage in skill, had better equipment, and had a clear advantage in experience. Yet, the Dornish had numbers. For every one killed, two would take their place, and it became clear the Northerners would have to fall back if they wanted any chance of survival.

Maege Mormont and Howland Reed grabbed Ned's arms, they then began the arduous process of bringing him back to their own lines. The other Northern lords covered they're less than graceful retreat, and it wasn't long until they were surrounded by allies.

No one grabbed Robert, Ned thought suddenly. Panic filled his body, and his heart hammered in his ears. We have to go back, Gods know what they'll do to him.

"Howland, I need yo... Uhh" He let out a pained groan. Maege bent down to expect his wounds, a face of concern drifted across her features, very much like a concerned mother.

"None of that, My lord," Maege examined him with concern, "Everything will be okay."

"We can find Ice later, My Lord." Roose appeared by his side suddenly. Blood dripped down from his arm, and the Leach lord gripped his arm tightly to slow down the bleeding.

Ned tried to speak again, but all that came out was another pained grunt. Darkness began to dance at the edge of his vision as the adrenaline left his body. His last thoughts were of his dearest friend before darkness took him.

...

His left arm felt as if it was being scorched by fire. The pain washed over him, making coherent thought impossible, The Stark lord struggled to open his eyes, but couldn't manage the simple task. He tried to open his mouth to speak, instead of words, a horrible sound escaped from his throat. A horrid mixture between a grunt and a wail. Ned comforted himself by assuming someone would hear his distress, and come in to help him.

When no one came, he made an attempt to move. Pain shot through his right leg, and the memory of his fight with Rhaegar came back to him in between the waves of pain. He stayed like that for longer than he could tell. It was possibly hours or minutes, all he knew for sure was that every second was agony.

Ned let out another gasp of pain as he tried to call for someone, anyone. His throat was dry and felt constricted. He heard what sounded like voices and footsteps.

The people were talking right beside him, but he couldn't truly comprehend what they were saying. He knew at least one had to be a Maester, or at least he hoped.

A hand felt his shoulder, and for a moment he truly believed that the stranger would take him. When the hand drifted lower and examined his injured knee, Ned honestly wished the stranger would take him.

His mouth was opened, and a liquid entered it. Milk of the poppy. In a matter of moments, he felt himself drift off again.

...

It took no effort to open his eyes the next time he awoke. Ned looked around, glancing for anything that would reveal his location. A few bookcases and some basic furniture. The room he was in was somewhat damp, and a few traces of moss could be seen in the stone walls. Ned knew from past experiences that he was in some holdfast or another. A serving girl was cleaning in the room's far corner.

"My.. Lady," Eddard spoke, it took some effort to speak. The girl jumped and looked around with curious brown eyes. "Fetch a Maester," he stated calmly. The girl looked shocked and slightly curious. She nodded and ran out of the room without responding.

It took no time for the Maester to appear. A fat man and Ned recognized him as Jon Arryn's personal Maester from his time in the Vale.

"My Lord," The Master began. "You've been asleep for a long while, the other Lords were worried about you. it was believed you would not pull through. I'm sure they will be relieved to hear of your recovery." His face remained passive. The brown eyed serving girl from earlier stood behind him, and she peered curiously from behind the Maester's robes. "My Lord Arryn was especially concerned for your wellbeing."

"My Men," He asked, his voice felt heavy, and sounded weak.

"Lords Dustin, Glover, Cassel, Wull, and Ser Mark Ryswell were all slain in combat, my Lord." Their deaths were heavy on Ned's heart, but he allowed the Maester to continue. " Lady Mormont, Lord Umber, and Bolton were all injured as well, but have recovered. You will be happy to hear that Jon Darry was slain by Lord Umber. Barristan Selmy was similarly defeated by Lord Bolton. It's also said that you killed Prince Rhaegar yourself, an admiral feat if I do say." Ned was relieved by their deaths in truth, but he still felt it was a needless slaughter. "Prince Lewyn Martell survived the battle, and rumor has it he is currently leading the Loyalist army."

Ned frowned at that. He had a question but was almost afraid to ask. "What of Robert? Did he survive the battle?"

"He did, My Lord, but he's currently being held hostage at Riverrun." The Maester stated calmly as he continued to check his wounds. "It's my understanding that they don't wish to move him to King's landing until his wounds have healed to a significant degree."

"At Riverrun?" Ned Exclaimed in shock. " How Long have I been under?"

A voice interrupted before the Maester could speak, "Far too long my lord." Howland Reed stood at the doorway, the same as Eddard remembered him, except he now wore a cleaner set of clothes. There was also a thin red cut across his cheek which had yet to fully heal. "Lord Arryn and the others went straight to the meeting hall as soon as you awoke. It would be rude to keep them waiting." A ghost of a smile played at his lips.

It was odd for them to call a meeting so suddenly, even with him able to attend. The situation had to be dire. He grunted and moved to get up. It took the aid of the Maester, the serving girl, and Lord Reed for him to get ready. The clothes he wore were not his own and hung on his frame, it was only then that realized he was much skinnier than he once was.

"It would not be well viewed being carried in by me." Lord Reed smiled. "I and a few others had this made for you, My Lord." He handed over a cane, fitted with a silver direwolf head.

Ned let out a sound between a scoff and laugh, "Neds fine,` Howland, there's no need for titles. You should know that by now." They began to walk out the door, Howland making sure to walk beside his liege lord, in case Ned needed assistance.

"I Know, My Lord," Howland shook his head," but I can't do that, it's a respect thing." The two continued to walk together towards the meeting hall. The hallway was crowded with soldiers. Those who saw them stopped and gave a slight bow of their head.

The door to the Great Hall of the Twins was opened for them. Inside all of the Lords of the Vale and the North were arranged at tables. The Northerners sat to the left of Jon Arryn, while the men of the Vale sat to his Right. No lords of the Trident were present, not even lord Tully. Lord Stark walked into the room slowly. Lords of both sides greeted him as he entered. Some by name, some with a polite nod, and some with a small cheer or even with relieved laughter.

One of Ned's lords made to grab him a chair, but he waved him off. It wouldn't look right to sit in this scenario, no matter how much he wanted too.

"Ned," Jon smiled a true smile that touched his entire face. Relief was clear on his features, but so was a pain. "Words cannot express how relieved I am to see you walking around again" His smile disappeared suddenly, and disappointment took its place on the lord's face. "I wish I could tell you that things have been going well in your absence, but things couldn't be farther from the truth."

"I was told that Robert Baratheon is held captive in Riverrun." Ned Stark decided to go straight to the point. "What happened? The last thing I remember is fighting Prince Rhaegar, and now you're telling me that Riverrun has fallen."

Jon Arryn looked truly defeated for a moment but found his strength in a matter of moments. "Lord Frey happened." The name was said with disgust, and Ned noticed how some grimaced when they heard his name. "The Battle of the Trident was effectively a stalemate. It was a draw, but it killed our momentum. Rhaegar and two of the Kingsguard are dead, and that helped break the loyalists. Yet, when Robert was captured, the Stormlords broke, we couldn't convince them to stay without Robert. With you so injured, and a third of our forces breaking, we had to retreat. Lord Hoster led his men to Riverrun to regroup, and we headed North in order to resupply. As we did, Lord Frey Marched his men to Riverrun and offered aid. As soon as Lord Tully Lowered the gates, the Frey's turned on Tully's men. It was a slaughter, we heard no word from Lord Hoster since the attack, but we know he managed to escape. With Lord Frey and the majority of his host south, there was no one to guard the Twins. We took the castle with few casualties. The Twins are under our command, but I'm afraid we lost contact with most holdings south of our location."

It was worse than Ned could have thought. The Stormlands were effectively lost to them, without Robert. Even worse, the loss of Riverrun, and Lord Frey's betrayal, the Trident was worse than lost. A good number of Lord Hoster's southern bannerman already fought for the Targaryens, now with Frey taking the region's capital, a good number of Lord Hoster's Northern bannerman would flock to Lord Frey. Those that remained loyal to Lord Tully were in a bad position, cut off from their allies, and surrounded by enemies. Yet, they had the Twins.

"That's a poor trade off in all honesty." Ned frowned, his face grim. "The Stormlands are gone. The Trident gone. What do we have left? How many men?"

"Our own men remained relatively intact. The north suffered some 2,000 casualties, and my own knights even less than that. I have close to 12,000 men with me, and I believe you have around 13,000 Northerners."

Ned gripped his direwolf cane tighter. "The Targaryens, how many men still fight under the banner of Aerys?"Jon hesitated for a moment before answering.

"We can't be entirely positive. Yet, I have sent outriders to gauge the enemy's forces, their reports are troubling, to say the least." The lord of the Vale spoke solemnly, revealing no thoughts on their situation. "The army approaching the western gate of the Twins is said to be made of 30,000 men. Some 20,000 Dornish, and the rest are made of men from the crownlands. It's rumored said they are led by Prince Lewyn Martell, of Dorne."

"30,000 men from the east?" Ned asked in disbelief. "What of the West, how many men?"

"A slightly smaller army, but still numbering above 25,000. This army is definitely the weaker of the two, made of more farmers than Knights. My scouts report that their banners signify Lords from the Riverlands, Crownlands, Stormlands, and even a few mercenary groups from across the narrow sea." Jon Arryn resisted the urge grimace at the mention of the mercenary groups. There were few things Lord Arryn despised more than sellswords. "There are many banners, but my scouts report that the most prominent features the heraldry of the Freys."

"Lord Frey, would he dare lead the expedition himself?" Ned asked, uncertain.

"He's an old man, older than myself in fact. Yet, he's also a proud man and would see our actions as the greatest insult. I have no doubt that he will be there." Jon Arryn stated calmly, the other lords in the room simply nodded in agreement.

Ned thought of Jon's words before speaking. "Our situation is a dire one, it seems that we're outnumbered. Half of our forces our lost to us, and our position isn't exactly a stable one."

"True enough, there's only one question that remains, what do we do now?" Jon asked.

There was silence in the hall, no one dared said a word for a moment. A soft shuffling noise could be heard as the lords looked between one another. After what seemed like ages, the silence was broken.

"We have to sue for peace, were outnumbered two to one. If we plead our case to King Aerys and swear fealty. we'll be able to return home." A lord from the Vale spoke up. His plea was met with murmurs of agreement from both sides of the room.

"It pains me to admit, but the war is lost, maybe we can offer an exchange to get Lord Baratheon back," Lord Cerwyn spoke. It was noticed by Ned, that Robert was no longer referred to as his grace. They no longer saw Robert as King in the making, as they viewed their cause as lost.

"Perhaps it's time to end this," Jon Arryn spoke again, he seemed to age before Ned's eyes, "We have lost this war, and to continue would be our deaths. I see no point in sacrificing any more lives for nothing."

"Jon?" Ned turned his head to look eye to eye with the man that raised him. Gray eyes met with blue, both held a certain resolve. "Do you know what will happen to the two of us if we lay down our arms? If we bend the knee to Aerys, I assure you, we will never rise again. The only thing that awaits us is a shallow grave."

The Northern Lords looked at their liege Lord with bewilderment, similarly, the Vale lords looked at Jon Arryn with concern.

"You can't possibly mean?" Lady Mormont stood up as she spoke," Aerys wouldn't kill you, Ned, he'd need you to keep the North in line. You think we'd follow some blasted dragon, no, us Northerners only follow wolves." Other northerners voiced their agreement.

Across the room, the lords of the Vale spoke of their support for Lord Arryn.

"He'd kill us both without any hesitation, I know that for a fact." Jon Arryn spoke calmly, turning his back to the lords in the room as he did. Silence descended, a feeling of shock seemed to come off the lords in waves. Both lords of the Vale and of the North assumed they would be safe if they gave in to Aerys demands, now they weren't so sure. " Yet our deaths our preferable to the slaughter of our people. I am the Warden of the East, you, my friend, you're the Warden of the North. That means, more than anything, that we protect those who can't protect themselves. If giving our lives means my loyal men might live to father children, to marry, to truly live, then I will make that sacrifice without hesitation."

Ned began to walk towards his friend, slowly, his direwolf cane sounded heavy on the wooden flooring. When he reached Jon, Ned put a hand on his shoulder. "If it were only that simple." Jon turned to face him, once again their eyes met. "He won't stop at us, every lord who fought beside us, my brother Benjen, Lord Hoster, and both of our wives will join us in death."

"He wouldn't dare, I would never stand for..."Jon's face dropped. Then, he let out a bitter laugh, "You're right, I forgot who we were dealing with for a second. The Mad King won't forgive this."

"I guess we only have one real course of action then?" Ned stated calmly.

"I suppose, we're going to have to win this war," Jon spoke equally calm, seemingly getting over his distress.

The noble lords who seemed content to sit out the conversation once again became involved at the mention of fighting. "Lord Arryn, firstly, I wish to say I will stand with you no matter your decision. However, I'm forced to wonder, what do we do? In our last battle, we had twice as many men, yet we still lost." A lord of the Vale spoke, he seemed to fidget under Jon Arryn's gaze.

"You're right, we don't have enough men for this war. So our answer is simple, we need more!" Lord Umber shouted. "Give me leave My lord, I'll gather a second host, one twice as strong as the one we left with."

"Lord Umber, your loyalty never ceases to impress" Ned praised his most trusted bannermen. The giant of a man beamed at the praise." I believe I have a plan, at the very least, the makings of one. You're to take Lady Mormont, and Lord Bolton with you North. You three are to gather everyone who can wield a sword. I also want you to ask the mountain clans for aid, normally I wouldn't involve them, but we need everyone we can get.

"You'd leave the north undefended?" A northern lord shouted

"If we lose this war, none of us will ever return to the North!" Ned shouted suddenly, catching everyone off guard. Silence filled the hall, Ned Stark stood tall, every inch a lord even with the cane holding him up, Jon Arryn stood by his side, looking as composed as ever. Lord Stark looked down on the assembled lords. Ned rarely showed any emotion, anger was something that even Jon Arryn never really saw in Ned. "My Lords, you forget yourselves, my father was burned alive by the Mad King. My brother was forced to watch his father burn while struggling to free himself." Ned's voice suddenly died in his throat. "I refuse to think of what that monster they call a prince did to my sister. So I ask all of you, does any man here truly believe that the Mad King will allow us to return home. I killed his son, I will never regret that, but the truth is that Aerys will never forgive my actions. So I ask all of you, what will happen to us if we surrender?" Silence greeted the question he posed. "He won't forgive us, and I won't forgive him. If we don't win this war, we will all die, that is the truth. So that leaves one path available, we have to win."

A long silence greeted Ned's outburst. The Vale lords looked at one another, seemingly unsure of what to say. The Northern Lords, however, seemed almost inspired. Even Roose Bolton looked at Ned with some form of respect.

"I said earlier that I would die for my people, there's truth to that," Jon spoke in a soft voice, one that seemed out of place following ned's outburst. "However, I would gladly die for you as well Ned, you and Robert are like the sons I never had." Jon turned his head to the right, glancing at the Lords of the Vale. "Lord Royce?

The Lord in question turned to him, "My Lord?"

"Return to the Eyrie, bring me every man who can raise a sword. For better or for worse, this war is ending in the coming months. I don't plan to be on the wrong side." A smile seemed to grace his face, "We'll have to find Lord Tully, he'll be able to raise a few more swords to our cause."

"What chance do we have?" A lord mumbled to himself.

"We're at the twins, are we not?" Ned asked to no one in particular. "Does anyone know what that means? Any army laying siege will have to hold both ends. His army is already split in two, when they lay siege to our forces, they won't be able to help one another. If we can hold the twins until Lord Umber and Lord Royce gather another host, we can butcher the eastern camp with our reinforcements.

"We'd be fighting two armies of 30,000 rather than one army of 60,000." Jon Arryn stated. "We would have the advantage in numbers if we can gather sufficient reinforcements. We'd also have the superior position. Lord Royce, once you gather then the men from the Vale, March to Moat Cailin. When Lord Umber has gathered all he can from the North, march back here. We should be able to take down the eastern encampment, and from there Prince Martell will be outnumbered."

"What of our foodstuffs?" Ned asked curiously. " Our the granaries filled enough to survive a siege.

"Aye, but not with 25,000 men at the Twins. Perhaps I can take my men and some of yours to Seaguard, Lord Mallister still holds the place. From there, I should be able to strike out and damage supply lines for Prince Martell's western camp."

Hours were spent planning for the coming siege. They estimated they had a week until the loyalists arrived at the Twins. It was decided, Ned would stay and hold the castle with 10,000 Northerners. Lord Arryn would march west to Seaguard with 11,500 men from the Vale, and 2,500 Northers. At the same time, 500 men would go to the North to gather a second host. 500 men would also head to the Vale to gather another army. When the levies were fully gathered, they would converge at Moat Cailin, and then march on the Loyalists camp to the east of the Twins.

"Who are we fighting for?" Lord Redfort said after everything was decided. Lord Redfort was to accompany Lord Royce to the Vale, in hopes of gathering a sizable force. "We were fighting to put Robert on the throne, but he's been captured, and for all we know dead. So what now?"

"MY LORDS!" The Greatjon Umber bellowed, "Here is what I say of this talks of Kings in the south." He spat on the floor earning looks of disgust from some, and confusion from others. "Robert was a decent enough man, and he would have made a fine King, but he would never have been my King. I had enough of bowing to some throne in the south. What do those men know of the Wall or the wolfswood or the barrows of the First Men? Even their gods are wrong. The Others take the Targaryens, I've had a bellyful of them. Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we married, and the dragons are all dead! There sits the only king I mean to bow my knee to, m'lords. The King in the North!" His shout directed all eyes to Ned Stark who stood still as a statue. Jon Arryn had to fight a smile off his face.

"My Lord," Roose Bolton stood up, focusing all of his attention on Ned Stark. His dark eyes seemed almost amused with his Liege Lord's discomfort. "My father died for your own many years ago. He warned me in the past about getting too close to a Stark of Winterfell." His voice was only a whisper, but rose suddenly, "Fortunately with some luck, you'll soon be a Stark of King's Landing. I Pledge my blade to you, the King in the North!" His roar, while not as thunderous as the Greatjon's, still stunned those in attendance.

"Generations ago It was the Kings of Winter who freed my people from a lifetime of slavery. From that day on, my ancestors pledged the Bear would always follow the Wolf. We Mormonts remember our oaths" Maege Mormont stood up with her fellow Northerners. "To the King in the North!"

Soon all the Northerners were shouting, along with a few Valeman.

"Ned, I raised you like a son," Jon Arryn's voice cut through the shouting, "We already lost one King to this war, you should know we can't afford to lose a second." Jon smiled suddenly, "That being said, I pledge my life to yours, your Grace. To the King in North!" He shouted, which was met by a roar of approval from the Northerners.

Swords were drawn and raised to the heavens as the shouting continued. Soon, the men of the Vale were cheering with the Northerners, standing as a unified force. Not a single man noticed the look of dread on Ned Stark's face, except Jon Arryn. The Lord of the Vale simply put a comforting hand on his ward's shoulder.

As Jon Arryn and the King in the North's lord all departed from the Twins, Ned came to terms with the weight of his new position. He decided, he wouldn't let his lord's down, and he would not let Robert, Jon Arryn, or his family down either.

One week after being declared King in the North, the siege began.

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	2. The Crossing

I own nothing in relation to Game of Thrones or Asoiaf. I'm just a fan

"He's not my king because he has a dragon, nor is he my king because he has an army. No, Eddard Stark is my King because he has my respect."- Jon "The Greatjon" Umber, 283 AC.

"It appears winter had finally come." - Lewyn Martell, after seeing the arrival of the Northern reinforcements, 283 AC.

Hoster Tully

The trout of House Tully waved proudly over the makeshift camp. It was a small gathering, Hoster knew. Less than a thousand men, only a few lesser lords, and dozens of farmers. They would be nothing more than an annoyance to the loyalist forces. Yet, Hoster knew from his many conversations with his brother, that he could be one hell of an annoyance.

They had no lack of supplies, every day they would strike quickly at whatever Targaryen forces they could find along the Trident. Hoster felt some shame in knowing they acted more like bandits than an army, but frankly, he couldn't be bothered to care much.

When the majority of the Loyalist men marched North, he headed south. Just south of Riverrun, as much as it pained him, he had no chance of retaking his home. Instead, he focused on the lords that betrayed him, and the men of the Crownlands who raised their banner for Aerys.

He had no problem burning their fields and homes, it actually gave him a measure of satisfaction. A few of the men that joined him expressed disgust at his actions, but they normally changed their minds once they realized how desperate their situation was.

Lord Tully, he was a man that always believed in the strength of loyalty, but now all of his loyal men have deserted him. So what did he truly have?

"Cheer up, Hoster, the war isn't lost yet." Bryden Tully's unsympathetic voice rang in the air. The Blackfish held his head high, ignoring the blood that ran down his face. The Pair of brothers sat in Hoster's command tent, which barely had enough room for the two of them, a bedroll, and the small table they were currently seated at.

"Tell me the truth Bryden, do we have any hope of retaking Riverrun, of winning?" Hoster asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

"Right now? Not a chance in any of the seven hells to be completely honest," Bryden said calmly, shrugging as he spoke. the Blackfish nearly smiled at his brother's annoyance.

"Then why are you so bloody cheery all of a sudden!" Hoster snapped out, ignoring the smirk appearing on his brother's face.

"While you were gone, fighting Targaryens, heroic stuff I'm sure," Bryden spoke, smirk still on his face. "I received a letter from Jon Arryn, it seems he has arrived safely at Seaguard. We might be able to reconnect with him, most Targaryens North of here have apparently marched to the Twins."

"The roads are clear?" Hoster asked in disbelief. "Wait, why the Twins?"

"I don't know exactly, but he mentioned your goodson making a stand there, he reportedly has some plan to turn the war around?" Bryden said with a shrug, taking a sip of cheap wine that was left on the table.

"Ned? He's a good lad, I'm sure he has something up his sleeve, anything else?" Hoster wondered out loud.

"Oh, one thing, Ned's been declared King of the North and the Vale."

"What? Hoster asked.

"Yup," Bryden just shrugged, taking another mouthful of the vile wine, grimacing as he did.

"That means my daughter is?"

"Queen in the North and Vale, and pregnant with the prince as well."

"I suppose we should march North, and reconnect with Lord Arryn," Hoster said, still processing the information.

"Yes, you should, I'll stay back here, if Cats queen, that means she's a threat to Aerys now, someone has to save her," Bryden said, face growing determined.

"You?" Hoster asked in slight disbelief

"Brother, you wound me, why must you always be so doubtful." Bryden smiled, and for the first time in what felt like years, Hoster felt some of his troubles melt away.

Eddard

Years ago, before Ned left for the Vale, his father sat him and his siblings down in his solar. Rickard was a good man, and valued loyalty and integrity as any true man of the North should. So he warned all of the Starks of the houses in Westeros who did not hold the same values as their own.

The first house he mentioned, was the Boltons. Twice, did the Bolton's rise against the Starks, and twice they were brought to heel. Ned remembered, but circumstances were forcing him to place an unprecedented amount trust in Roose Bolton. He only hoped it did not backfire, as it did on his ancestors.

The second house was the Tyrells. They were genuine men of honor in most cases, but Rickard considered them too opportunistic to be trusted. He especially warned Lyanna not to be fooled by a pretty face or promises of riches. Lyanna, of course, laughed it off and assured their father that it took more than a pretty face to win her over.

The Lannisters and the Targaryens were both considered trustworthy, but only to an extent. He stated they wouldn't betray someone without reason, but power was reason enough for both families.

The Final house was one Rickard said with disgust. The Freys, of the crossing, were hated by the Starks of Winterfell. Nearly a century ago, one Frey Lord refused to allow a shipment of goods from the wastelands through to the north. This was in the middle of winter, hundreds starved so a Frey could fill his coffers.

It was also a well-known fact in Westeros, that the Freys had no loyalty. Part of the Reason the Twins had never fallen until recently was every Frey Lord in the 600 years since the Twins creation had always joined the invading army. In every war they've been in, they have never chosen the wrong side.

A fire crackled softly in the corner, bathing the room in a soft glow. A few torches lit the walls but seemed to fill the room with shadows rather than light. The masonry of the Twins was ancient and reminded Ned vaguely of Winterfell, but the walls lacked the warmth Ned had always associated with his childhood home. Lord Frey's finely crafted oak desk sat on the far side of the room, A map of Westeros laid across the table, as goblets of wine and cold bread decorated the desk unceremoniously.

Two weeks, two oddly long, incredibly dull, boring weeks. Eddard had not realized the time had passed, at least not until Howland told him. In that time, the Targaryens seemed utterly content to feast outside the walls of the Twins. From the Western Camp, prince Martell sent an envoy, an attempt to parlay, but it's been quiet otherwise.

Honestly, Ned spent most of his time conversing with Howland. They've been playing a game called chess from Essos, the two of them found it relaxing in otherwise stressful times.

Lord Stark sat with the Lord of Greywater Watch in what used to be the solar of Lord Frey. The map between them had figurines representing the Great Houses of Westeros all over it. They both sat calmly, seemingly indifferent about the army outside their gates.

"I don't know why, but I expected more," Howland said, resisting the urge to say, your grace, knowing it would only annoy the Stark King. "Lord Frey isn't exactly the one to take insults with a smile, I thought he'd try to storm the gates as soon as he arrived."

"True, but you don't become his age without learning patience." Eddard Stark said calmly, his injured leg was outstretched on a chair across from him. "He knows these gates better than anyone, he's fully aware what will happen if he charges."

"I suppose," Lord Reed said, not content with Ned's answer. " I don't suppose you heard anything else from him, besides the first letter?"

Ned frowned, and his gray eyes filled with rage before calming almost immediately "Not a word, he's probably convinced his threats worked." He threatens to hang Cat, Lysa, and Robert like their dogs. Lord Frey's letter arrived a day before the man himself, he knew the Lord of the crossing lacked the ability to carry out his threats, however.

Prince Martell would never allow it. The Prince of Dorne was honorable by all accounts, and would never hang pregnant women. Every night, doubt crept into his mind, and he wondered if he should surrender. Surely his life was worth less than Cats and his unborn son?

In the end, he decided worse fates awaited them all if he surrendered, and decided not to stay strong as long as he could still draw breath.

"Ned, your brooding, it's not healthy you know?" Howland said in what could be considered a mocking tone.

Ned didn't smile, and he briefly remembered that Aerys killed people for better jokes. "Come, it's time we check on the gates," The King in the north said, rising from his chair.

Howland nodded, and stood up, he offered Ned a hand to help him up. The Stark King gave an appreciative nod but used the direwolf cane to help himself up anyway. The two walked slowly through the Twins, due to Eddard's injury.

It took twice as long as it should have to arrive at the Eastern gate. Standing atop the east gates barbican. It occurred to him that Walder must have seen the Twins much like Ned saw Winterfell. A home, a sanctuary, a symbol of his family's power. Ned also knew that it was the same way Catelyn saw Riverrun. Walder Frey betrayed his Liege Lord, stole their family home, and now threaten to hang Hoster Tully's eldest daughter if Ned didn't surrender. There were few men as despicable in the whole fo Westeros

His fears for Benjens safety kept him strong, and his love of Jon Arryn reminded him what of what he had to lose if he should give in. He and his army of 10,000 souls would have to stay strong, no matter the threat. Whether It be men, dragon, or even grumkins. Surrender was not an option.

From his position, he could see the whole of the eastern camp, with 30,000 men, it seemed like a city rather than an army. A banner featuring two blue towers, united by a bridge, on a silver-grey field hung high above the eastern camp, the symbol of House Frey.

Yet, the Frey men only made up a small part of the army. There were a few banners from the lesser houses of The Trident, the ones who were forced to bend the knee after Lord Hoster was routed from Riverrun. But even then, only about 10,000 men were soldiers of Westeros.

A few dozen mercenary bands from Essos made up the bulk of the forces, not really surprising actually. As long as Stannis held onto Storm's end, the Targaryen Levies were going to run dry. The Stormlords who were returning home also had to be giving the Mad King some grief.

Still, in spite of no lack of resources, it seemed like neither camp was building siege weapons. A scorpion or any heavy siege weaponry would likely knock the castle into the river, but it was still odd.

The Walk to the Western camp went somewhat faster.

In the Western Camp. a gold spear piercing a red sun on an orange field was the primary banner. The heraldry of House Martell of Dorne. If Ned had to guess, he would estimate about two-thirds of the western camp was Dornish spears. The rest were men from the Crownlands.

As weeks turned to months, things became more restless. No more requests to parlay ever came, a raven did arrive, but Ned decided to burn the letter rather than read it. In total, there was little left to do, except wait. Everything relied on his lords, and whatever support the name Stark still carried in the North. If his countrymen truly remembered their vows, Ned had no doubt of who would win the battles to come.

One morning, the King in the North walked stiffly to the eastern Barbican, Howland Reed never far behind. The crannogman assisted him when needed, but would always be waved off by the stubborn King. He passed some men at arms praying or sharpening their blades. A few archers who wandered aimlessly. Even a Cerwyn Knight seemed too afraid to man the gate until Ned offered to walk him there himself. Ned knew this man might die for him in the days to come and figured he should at least know his liege lord before that came to past.

"It seems Lord Lannister still waits at Casterly Rock," Howland stated dully.

"Aye, but for how much longer," Ned said, "Not a single house from the Westerlands is here, I suppose I should be grateful, Lord Tywin still holds a grudge against Aerys, yet how long is Tywin Lannister willing to wait." Ned continued his watch, after a moment he turned to Howland, "Ready the men, they'll try to breach the walls soon." The Stark lord had been saying the same every day, and his men were starting to doubt anything would ever happen.

As it turned out, Ned's prediction came to pass that very night. No one was sure when it started, it began at night and continued long until the morning. The Eastern gate was attacked first, the Frey's throwing body after body at the walls. The Essos soldiers always went first, accompanied by a few of the men from Westeros.

Body's began to pile, and the Northern archers continued to fire in the mass of people who charged the gates. There seemed to be no organization behind the attack, just senseless slaughter. People continuously being torn apart, yet, no man managed to climb the gates, and the attempts breach the walls met with failure.

As the first lights of the morning came over the horizon, the men charging began to slow, until they were nothing more than a distraction. A few dozen men a time, who proved more annoying than dangerous.

Knights of house Kettleblack, Hettleford, Rosby, and House Cressy began their charge at the western gates early in the morning. By all accounts, they fought with valor, but it was an altogether futile effort. They were assuredly skilled Knights, but it was hard for a man mounted on horseback to take a castle gate. It was even harder when Northern archers rained down arrows on them. Before the Knights even reached the gates, their numbers were cut in half. When they finally did arrive. Lord Reed ordered the dumping of burning oil. The Knights died quickly, but painfully.

To the credit of the Dornish, none of their men even bothered to charge. Instead, they sat on the sidelines, content to wait out the battle.

The first battle of the siege was a definitive Northern Victory. Less than a hundred Northern perished in the first true night of the siege. Ned didn't bother to count the dead of the enemy, namely because he couldn't, but the evidence spoke for itself.

Bodies were piled high on either side of his walls. It wouldn't be long until the crows came, and funeral pyres would likely burn for the rest of the day.

The next night was infinitely worse, yet the Western camp never again joined the fight. The Dornish were content to wait, and allow Lord Frey to Fight by himself.

Dozens of men began to scale the walls, at the same time, battering rams hammered the gates relentlessly. The archers did their jobs well enough, but Ned couldn't help but fear the gates would fall. At one point, nearly a hundred soldiers made it over the gates, only to be pushed back by a reserve group led by Howland Reed.

Within two weeks of the first attack, working siege towers were employed by the eastern camp. Men were ferried to the walls of the Twins and were released. The soldiers never made it far and were more often stopped by arrows then swords.

The fighting continued with no end in sight. Day and night, it mattered not, as the Targaryen's would try to win back the Twins. Ned's initial force of 10,000 dwindled to just under 7000 men of fighting capacity within 3 months of the siege. The dead were thrown in the green fork to prevent the spread of disease, but it did little good. There wounded began to pile, and their wounds began to fester without enough Maesters to treat them. The most he could offer them was a quick death.

Within 4 months of the siege, and 5 months after he first sent the Greatjon North, Ned regained enough mobility to fight. He had enough of leaning on a cane for a lifetime. He could no longer fight like he used too, and he never felt so slow. However, any man who made it over the gates still met his wrath. His greatsword, Ice, was lost in his fight with Prince Rhaegar, but the replacement could kill just as well. He inspired his fellow Northerners, even if he lacked the skill he once had.

No matter how much Ned inspired men to fight, they began to lose hope. Soldiers once shouted for the King in the North. but now they whispered of mutiny. Every night was worse than the last, and by the first day of the sixth month, mutiny was a common conversation topic over evening meals.

Every day, Ned prayed to the Old Gods for relief, for salvation. One day, the Gods saw fit to answer his prayers. King Stark could not be sure when they arrived, he just knew that Howland Reed woke him from his weary slumber, with reports of banners to the east. His first thought was that Stannis finally broke, and Lord Tyrell finally decided to put him out of his misery.

Then he looked across the field, past the enemy encampment, and smiled. A banner featuring a gray direwolf on a white field stood proudly, waving slightly in the breeze. Many banners waved not as high, but just as proud. The Flayed Man of Bolton, the Giant of Umber, the Bear of Mormont, and the Eagle of Arryn waved freely. A loud horn blasted Ned's eardrums and signaled the cavalry to charge.

Proud knights, green boys, and the sons of farmers rode their destriers side by side. Ned estimated the cavalry was made of at least 8,000 men, but perhaps he was just being optimistic. The horses rode through the enemy encampment, slicing through enemy lines with ease. Lord Walder's forces were seemingly unprepared for an attack from the North. He could hear shouting, screams of agony, and even what he thought was laughter.

In every battle fought in Westeros in past 8,000 years, the defender always had the advantage. Eddard Stark was taught as much from the maesters at Winterfell. Armies of 50,000 were broken by forces of 4,000 at Moat Cailin in days long past. But Lord Frey's camp was hardly Moat Cailin and was barely defensible at its best. After 5 months of trying to break into the Twins, Lords Frey men were far from ready for an attack on their rear.

His Initial force of 30,000 men was now at roughly 23,000 before the battle even began. Now with the reinforcements from the North and the Vale, Lord Frey was outnumbered for the first time. Many of the Men who were once sworn to Lord Hoster surrendered rather than fight.

Frey soldiers and Essos mercenaries began to break as the Cavalry led by the Greatjon cleaved through their forces. Any man who did not surrender was cut down mercilessly, and the camp was a scene of panic as men struggled to escape with their lives.

"Open the Gates!" The Stark King shouted, barely even thinking as he headed towards the gates. "Order the men on the West side to hold their ground, every man with a sword, follow me."

"Your Grace, are you sure that's the best opt-"

"Aye, it ends today one way or another!" Ned Stark found dozens of northerners at his back as soon as he gave the command. Howland reed among them. The gates opened, and he charged.

They lacked horse, but it didn't matter, most of the Targaryen loyalist were running rather than fighting by this point.

The Lord of Winterfell found himself again in the heat of battle. His men surged from the twins with the fury of the North. Purging into the backs of the Targaryen forces. He barely registered what was happening, he only knew that he needed to end this quickly.

His sword slashed through every man it came in contact with. Ned found himself slower than he was on the Trident, but it made no difference. It took a moment for the Targaryen's to register the attack was coming from both sides. When they did, it no longer mattered. By this point, thousands laid dead, and any man Lord Frey managed to conscript from the Riverlands had either fled or switched sides.

The Northern cavalry was still cutting through men like butter. His men screamed in victory, and in death. Ned never felt so strong in his life. It was different at the Trident. There he felt as if he was doing his duty, as a brother, and a friend to Robert. Now he felt as if he was stealing a crown, and in a twisted way, he enjoyed it.

It became a dull routine. Slashing and parrying by instinct. A man swiped at his exposed head, only for the slash to be parried. Without thinking, his greatsword was soon impaled through the man but was stuck. He dropped the sword, and grabbed his opponents longsword instead, and continued to move through the ranks of Frey men.

A Essos mercenary began his charge, only to soon fall to the ground dead as one of Lord Reed's knives became embedded in the man's skull. The Greatjon Umber nearly sliced a man in half using a war axe. Roose Bolton was skillfully defending against two men at once with a sword in one hand, and a dagger in the other. Lord Redfort was bashing a man's head in with his shield. Lord Royce decapitated a man quickly and moved on.

All across the battlefield was pure carnage.

It was over before Ned realized, as he cut down the last man in front of him, the cheering erupted around him. Hours passed without Ned realizing it, and in that time, Frey's force was all but destroyed. A few men remained, most of which quickly gave up rather than fight. He allowed himself a second and dropped the longsword from his hands. He slowly walked over to the greatsword he left behind and pulled it from the man it became stuck in with some effort. Howland Reed still stood beside him, a smile on the crannogman's face.

Ned's chest fell up and down heavily, he was exhausted, but he allowed himself to smile. The shouts of his men erupted around him, and Lord Reed gave him a look that seemed to be near worship.

"Ned!" A voice cut through the shouting, as the Greatjon hopped off his horse and ran towards his Liege Lord. The giant of a man forgot all forms of formality, as he took the man he declared King in a bone crushing hug. "I brought the whole of the North with me!"

"Lord Umber, I missed you as well," Ned replied the best he could with his ribs being crushed from the man's grip. The GreatJon was covered head to toe in blood, and he looked more monster than man. The Greatjon wore dark chainmail under boiled leather. Ned noted the direwolf of House Stark was encompassed on the Greatjon's personal sigil. A Direwolf was now breaking the Giant out of his chain's.

"Stark, you have my half frozen ass march across the North, and that's the greeting I get?" Lord Umber still smiled brightly, without much of a word, he let go of his Lord, allowing him to drop. "I missed you Stark! Pardons, I mean your Grace!

"Ned's fine, lord Umber." The King said, taking a step back from the hug.

"Aye, I suppose it is." Bits of gore were stuck to the Greatjon's beard and dripped softly onto his armor. "Foolish of me to think my King would forget his friends."

"Foolish indeed, Lord Umber." Maege Mormont appeared as well, she didn't envelope him in a hug, but the smile she gave signified enough. "It's always a pleasure, your Grace." She bowed her head in respect. Her armor was plated and colored a deep green. The sigil of House Mormont was the same as it alway was on her breast, but there were new words at the top. Winter is Here, written in a bold silver lettering right above her house sigil. Ned was frankly touched to see such acts of loyalty from his Lords.

"Now, your Grace." Roose Bolton appeared, almost magically. His voice a whisper as always. He wore dark boiled leather, and furs. Wolf furs if Ned had to guess by their look. The Sigil of House Bolton remained untouched on his chest, but there was a small direwolf imprinted on the sash holding his cloak. "I'm happy to see your plan worked, I had my fears admittedly. " Roose gave him a seemingly genuine smile. "I brought you a gift, I hope you appreciate the lengths I took to bring him to you alive."

Before Ned could ask any questions, two of Bolton's men appeared from behind the Leech Lord. In their arms was an old man, but he carried strength for his age. Ned admittedly didn't recognize him at first, but the sigil on his chest and his golden inlaid armor made it clear.

"Lord Frey." Ned looked down at the bound lord, a hint of anger was evident on Walder Frey's face. "I'm admittedly surprised to see you here, I expected you to be at Riverrun by now."

Walder Frey looked slightly stunned, beady eyes stared unflinchingly at the man before him. "Aye, I suppose you would, Stark.," Frey spits at the ground, "Did you think I would let your actions go unpunished? You took my home, and I'll be damned sure you pay. I suppose you thought I would let that go. Not bloody likely, I'll have your head for this."

"Your army is shattered. Prince Rhaegar is dead, and Aerys is not long for this world. Do tell me how you plan on taking my head?" Ned snapped back, his patience was wearing thin.

Walder Frey made a show of looking across the River. "Prince Martell seems to still have an army, and I'm sure Lord Tyrell will rush over here as soon as he gets word," Walder Frey smirked slightly, "I think it's you who's not long for this world Stark."

Ned tired of talk, his mind was made up. "You betrayed Lord Hoster, your Liege Lord at Riverrun. Do you have anything to say to your defense?" Ned's voice stayed passive, but his gray eyes became intense. Lord Frey looked away. "You swore an oath, did you not?

"You're serious?" Walder asked looking up. "Aye, I swore an oath to Lord Hoster, but I swore an oath to the crown as well," Frey scoffed. "Tell me Stark, are we so different? Lord Hoster disrespected my family for years, calling us beggars, and insulting my children and my grandchildren. There was never a question of where my Loyalties belonged, its Hoster's fought that he was too much a fool to see that. So do tell me Stark, what do you plan on doing about it?"

"Justice." Ned gave a quick nod to the Greatjon and Lady Mormont. Without a word they made their way to Lord Frey's side, bringing him to his knees. Ned felt the eyes of his men on him, but ignored them, "We are nothing alike Lord Frey, if it comforts you in your last moments to believe that you acted for your family, so be it." He pulled his greatsword from the sheath at his back.

"You mean to execute me, under whose authority? Last I checked, Robert was pissing himself in a dungeon at Riverrun. Aerys Would have your head first." Lord Frey eyed the greatsword with some apprehension.

"Under my own authority," Ned Stark spoke calmly. " The North and the Vale have declared for me, perhaps the Trident will as well. They declare me the King in The North." Shouts began to erupt around him, from northern farmers to Vale knights.

"King in the North!" Shouted the Greatjon.

"The King of the Vale!" Lord Royce raised his Sword in the air, followed by a dozen other men, including Lord Redfort.

"The Quiet Wolf!" Screeched Rickard Karstark!

"Not the quiet Wolf," Maege Mormont interrupted." The Great Wolf!"

Walder looked around, fear and disdain evident. "You wish to kill me? Surrounded by your fellow barbarians. So be it." He slumped resigned to his fate." But, know this, one day, one of My sons will gut you like the pig you are!" The Greatjon's fist slammed into the side of Walder's head, silencing him.

Ned's hand clenched into the hilt of the greatsword. He impaled the tip of the blade into the ground and leaned against it softly. _My first act as King, Is to Kill, does that make me the Next Aegon or the Next Aerys_ , he wondered. Ned cleared his mind and remembered the words his father said so many times.

"I Eddard of House Stark first of my name," Eddard shouted, silencing the field. "Lord of Winterfell, King In the North, the Vale, and shield of the trident, sentence you to die." Ned lifted the blade above his head and swung.

Frey's head fell away from his body, and another corpse-littered the ground. Maege Mormont and the Greatjon Umber let the body fall to the ground, staring at the man with ill-concealed disgust. The Greatjon slapped Ned on his back, giving him a nod conveying respect.

The Bolton Men Carried the Body away from King Stark. Ned soon found himself surrounded by his lords, ready to discuss the war.

"Your Grace, The Vale brings 17,000 men to your cause!" Lord Royce Kneeled before his King, the other Lords of the Vale soon followed.

"The North Brings 20,000 to you, Ned!" The Greatjon bellowed, a nudge by Roose Bolton reminded the man to Kneel before Him.

"Your Grace." One of the Lords of the Trident spoke up, Lord Smallwood of Acorn Hill, they were one of the last to surrender to Lord Frey, but one of the first to surrender to the Starks. " I"m Lord Smallwood, most of my men have already perished either fighting here or on the Trident, but I bring a hundred men who will support you, your Grace."

The rest of the Lords of the Trident soon followed suit, all who swore fealty to King Stark, under the condition they could keep their previous land.

"Your Grace," Wyman Manderly shuffled towards him, the Lord of White Harbor for a few months now following his father's death on The Trident. The man was built strongly and carried himself well. He seemed near as big as the GreatJon, and perhaps just as strong. He wore similar armor to the other Northerners, but he was trimmed with silver. " I have a gift for you, I had it crafted as soon as I heard the news, I assure you I spared no expense. When I meet her, I shall also create one for our Queen."

One of lord Manderly's Knights came forward, holding a small box crafted from a White Weirwood tree. Lord Manderly offered Ned a Smile, before opening the box.

A crown consisting of an open circlet of hammered Silver incised with the runes of the First Men, surmounted by nine black iron spikes wrought in the shape of longswords. The runes were made of spun gold, and a large direwolf made of silver stood at its front.

"A Crown for a King." Wyman smiled.

Thank you to anyone who follows, favorites. Or reviews. I appreciate any comments or opinions.


	3. A Deal

**I own less than nothing, at least when it concerns this series.**

 **I went back and edited the first chapter heavily. It was namely a few general fixes, but I also added and tweaked a few things. The biggest change for that chapter is that I actually stated who killed the members of the Kingsguard. Barristan Selmy was killed by Roose Bolton, who got a lucky shot in. Jon Darry was killed by the GreatJon.**

 **Chapter Two was edited as well. I added a bit, rewrote some of the siege, and also added a POV for Hoster Tully. Hoster Tully's chapter shows him reacting the news Ned Stark has been declared King. It also addresses that Brynden Tully plans to save Cat and Lysa. Wyman Manderly also gets introduced in that chapter and Gives Eddard Stark a crown he had made in White Harbor. If you want to go back and read it, you can, but It is not strictly necessary.**

 **Bryden's chapter takes place roughly a month before Jon's. Shortly before The end Eddard's POV last chapter.**

 **"Lannisters aren't the only ones who pay their debts."- Oberyn Martell**

 **Jon Arryn**

The two boys Jon Arryn brought in and raised in the Eyrie have grown up, a sobering thought for the old Falcon. Whether he meant to or no, the lord of the Eyrie had raised two Kings, and two extraordinary risk takers if recent events were anything to go by.

Leaving Eddard to hold the Twins proved a wise decision, yet it still troubled Jon in the months during the siege. It was a major risk, if the castle fell before Ned's reinforcements arrived, all their efforts would be for naught. Eddard would be dead or carried off to Aerys and burned alive. Robert would meet a similar fate soon after.

Robert, there was a man that had been constantly on Jon Arryns mind in the last couple of months. Robert could be dead, Jon thought. It was true, even likely. The man could very well be dead, and there was little Jon could do about the situation. It's why he put all effort into helping Ned, in the scheme of things, it was the only true way to save Robert.

So now, after months of waiting, it was once again time to march south. The victory at the Twins was a stunning if not surprising victory only allowed through the continued support of the Northern and Vale lords. It was a victory that Jon would have assumed was impossible only a few months prior, but Jon cared not for the details of their achievemnet and knew only that now was the time to press the advantage.

Seaguard was hospitable enough in the months during the siege. Jason Mallister was truly a gregarious man, a fantastic host, and a loyal bannerman to both the Tullys and the newly crowned King in the North. However, the man was both cautious and ambitious. Only a handful of Mallister men at arms would join Jon Arryn on the Journey south, none of which would be flying the Mallister colors. Then, when Ned Stark arrived from the Twins, with the newly formed rebel army, Jason enquired if Ned's youngest brother, Prince Benjan Stark, would be needing a bride, and offered his daughter Minisa Mallister as a suitable candidate.

Of course, Ned politely declined but did inform lord Mallister he would keep the offer in mind. While disappointed, the Mallister lord hardly let up, instead throwing a small feast for the Northern and Vale lords to show his support in these trying times. It was a day after this celebration that Ned Stark ordered the armies to begin their march south, pursuing Lewyn Martell's army.

The Dornish army moved fast, and the rebels were constantly trying to catch up with the Dornish soldiers, a task that often proved to be pointless and humiliating, as the Dornish moved far faster than their own army. Even so, moral was never so high. The soldiers were singing as they walked, and speaking of the victories and glory to come. Every now and then, a few soldiers would start shouting for the King in the North and it what seemed like no time, the shouting would spread throughout the entire army.

As Jon continued his ride south, he noticed Roose Bolton, the head of their Vanguard, riding lazily towards him. The Leech Lord was flanked by his standard bearers, the flayed man of Bolton and the Stark Direwolf waved proudly behind the Lord of the Dreadfort.

"Lord Bolton, how may I be of assistance?" Jon Arryn asked. The majority of the rebel army was uncomfortable with Roose, Jon was no exception. However, it was noticed by everyone Roose has been spending more and more time in the company of his fellow Northerners, more specifically, his new King. Jon was determined to seem comfortable around the lord of the Dreadfort. But the man's eyes were so lifeless, his voice was never above a whisper, and his presence was genuinely unnerving. It was as if the man had a dark secret, one the world would be better off not knowing. "Is everything alright?" Jon asked after a moment.

"Of course, Lord Arryn," Roose spoke, his blindingly white teeth glared in the sun, " However, one of my outriders had some, shall we say, interesting reports. Prince Martell has stopped marching. It appears he has made camp on an open field a bit west of Oldstones." The Leech Lord responded to Lord Arryn, who frowned in confusion.

"Why would he do that? There no more than a couple day's march from Riverrun?" Jon wondered, from a tactical standpoint it didn't make a great deal of sense. If they made it to Riverrun, they would have a tactical advantage and could drag the war out for another year. "Is there more?"

"Why of course," Roose gave a knowing smile. Jon nearly shivered at the man. His smile just felt unnatural, almost terrifying. "Lord Martell has sent riders of his own North, it seems he wishes to discuss terms of surrender."

Silence descended upon the pair, the only sound was the voices of the soldiers around them, speaking if King Stark would sit upon the Iron Throne. One man boldly suggested they craft a new throne of Dragon Bones.

"Lord Bolton, I need you to find the King, fetch Lord Umber as well. I believe it would be best if you also accompany us. Since yourself and Lord Umber fought against the man, your presence might make him uncomfortable. I want him to feel as off-balance as possible." Jon said quickly, and Roose Bolton nodded his head at every order. "Understood?"

"Of course, I'll order our men to make camp just south of their position, I'll also insist that the negotiations take place in our own camps." With that, the two departed from one another. Roose rushing to fulfill his orders, While Jon rushed to prepare for the Negotiations

It took hours to prepare everything. The camp was set quickly enough, but gathering an honor guard for them, gathering the necessary lords, and making plans in case a battle was to break out was necessary and time-consuming.

Sunset was fast approaching by the time they were ready to meet, Prince Martell refused to meet in the middle of the Stark camp. Instead, they met in front of a small stream just off the trident. By the time they managed to arrive, Prince Martell was already there, surrounded by a few lords, but no guards. They sat on top of Horseback, gazing out into the water.

Prince Martell chose not to wear his Kingsguard armor, instead preferring simple leather with the sun spear of Dorne emblazoned on it. The other Lords wore similar regalia, choosing to wear the heraldry of their own houses instead of Targaryen colors. Upon seeing them, Prince Martell rode out to greet them, his fellow lords stayed behind.

King Stark, Lord Arryn, Lord Umber, and Lord Bolton rode out to meet them halfway. Leaving the other lords, and assembled guards behind.

"Lord Arryn, your Grace, truly a pleasure to meet you both," Prince Lewyn Martell spoke in a tired voice. His brown eyes had bags beneath them, and his tan skin was slightly paler than usual. "I only wish it were under better circumstances."

"As do we all, Prince Martell, we're here to discuss terms, are we not?" Jon Arryn spoke carefully, it was agreed that Jon Arryn would do most of the talking, Ned only speaking up when necessary.

"Of Course, there is no need to continue the senseless slaughter," The Prince spoke. Looking uneasily between the Greatjon and the Leech lord, Lewyn Martell had no issues making his thoughts known, "We should do this in private, correct?"

"What you wish to say to me, you can before my men. I'd trust them with my life, I certainly trust them with this." Ned spoke, and when he did, he left no argument. The GreatJon couldn't help but beam at the praise, while Roose remained expressionless, but there seemed to be a bit of amusement in his cold calculating eyes.

"Of course," Lewyn said with a small measure of disappointment, "My apologies, I meant no disrespect towards such distinguished." Lewyn was silent for a moment, as if searching for a word. "Gentleman," He offered lamely.

"No disrespect was given, now on to the terms of surrender," Jon stated calmly, refusing to allow the Prince to control the Conversation. "Here's what we're willing to offer, lay down your arms, declare fealty to His Grace, King Eddard, and move with us to King's Landing to take down Aerys once and for all. You will also release your hold on any castles in The Trident, especially Riverrun. Once that's taking care of, your sister and their children will give up all claim to the Iron Throne."

"Is that so?" Prince Martell frowned, "I refuse."

"What? You dare spit in the face of My King's Kindness!" The Greatjon Roared, "he's offering far more than you deserve!" Lord umber undoubtedly wanted to say more, but a glare from Lord Bolton and King Eddard silenced him almost immediately.

"Perhaps, but it can't be done." Prince Martell said, keeping his composure despite the outburst.

"Why is that? Prince, I believe the terms are fair enough." Jon spoke simply.

"Your Grace," Prince Martell chose to speak with the King directly. "You have a sister, do you not? You also understand what Aerys is like, now I ask you, what do you suppose would happen if sweet Elia's uncle marches against him?"

"He'll have her killed without a second thought, her children too." Ned looked away, he wore the crown well in Jon's opinion, and in time, he would be a great king, but at this moment, Ned looked much like the young boy who arrived in the Vale so many years ago. Jon searched his mind for a suitable solution.

"There is no debate, you will bend the Knee or we will wipe you out, but, the Mad King doesn't need to know of your surrender." Jon Arryn spoke up. "We will send a letter to Aerys, demanding his surrender, we will claim we captured you, Lord Martell, and your Armies were shattered as a result. We won't force you to march with us, but you will stand down, and you will be kept as a guest until we can be sure of Dorne's support." Of course, guest meant prisoner, but a well-treated prisoner.

Prince Martell seemed lost in thought, shifting uncomfortably in his saddle for a second. "I find that agreeable, yet, what happens to Elia?"

"I will not have women and children murdered, I'm no Aerys and no murder of babes. Elia will be allowed to return to Dorne." Eddard spoke, seemingly regaining his composure after his momentary lapse. Once again he was the confident King the Northerners loved, and the Vale respected.

"The Children, Rhaenys and Aegon, what of them?" The Dornish Prince asked brown eyes looked into Ned's gray with a near pleading look.

"They will give up all claim to the throne and come north as wards to the crown, I'm no fool, should they leave for Dorne, it would take less than a decade for a new rebellion to break out," King Stark said. His hand raised to his face, rubbing stubble, seemingly lost in thought. "The children will stay with me, they shall be brought in, and will be treated as if they were my own."

"They'll be prisoners! You'll keep Ellia from her own children, I thought you were a man of honor Stark!" The Prince sputtered, the lords he brought with him looked at him, concern creeping into their faces.

"Refer to me with respect, or do not refer to me at all Prince Martell." Eddard looked positively livid, after being disrespected in front of his bannerman. His face seemed scrunched up in a way that made him look far older than he actually was. "You do not question my honor. The children will stay with me and Lord Arryn, their mother will be allowed to them whenever she wishes, but they won't leave. Not until I can be sure they won't lead a rebellion against me. That is nonnegotiable Lord Martell."

He called him Lord. Was that a slip of the tongue or a threat? Jon wasn't actually sure and from the look of confusion on the Prince's face, neither was he.

The prince opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself. "Elia, will not be kept from her children, correct, your grace?"

"Yes, I would never dream of such a thing. I promise on my honor, and on my house, the children shall be kept safely."

"Then I, seeing no other true option, I accept your terms King Stark." He bowed his head, a sign of fealty. Prince Martell made a gesture, and his other lords rode carefully over to him. Lords of the Crownlands, and Lords of Dorne all made demands of their own and were given or refused namely based on Jon's judgment.

The negotiations continued on into the night. The Lords of the Crownlands gave absolute fealty to Lord Stark and agreed to ride with him against the Mad King. The lords of Dorne Surrendered, and their soldiers returned home, while their Lords would remain prisoners in the Northern camp.

In the Morning, the Dornish army dispersed completely heading south, and to home, if they kept their word, no more Dornish lives would be wasted in this war. If they didn't, the Dornish Lords who surrendered would be executed.

They rode to Riverrun from oldstones with a force over 60,000 strong. Some 55,000 Northerners and Valeman. The rest were men of The Trident and of the Crownlands.

Brynden "The Blackfish" Tully

Riverrun was always his home, even as he grew old, as his relationship with his brother worsened, even as his nieces needed him less and less. When Edmure no longer looked up to his Uncle, and when Lysa stopped being a girl full of dreams, instead transforming into scornful women afraid of her own future. When Catelyn began planning her life away, Riverrun was still home. Now, as Frey banners waved over the Tully fortress, it was still home. Always home, always getting worse and somehow even worse.

Just a different kind of home, one that represented what he had to lose should he fail tonight. It wasn't hard to sneak back into the Tully Fortress. Maester Vyman was more then happy to see him, and a few serving girls were able to sneak him in as a servant. No Frey looked at him too closely, and in his outfit, he was perfectly suited to be a peasant farmer.

Bryden was a patient man, and he didn't mind waiting for the success of his mission. He spent weeks as a common server, pouring drinks, serving food, even scrubbing the floors he once walked as a lord. He didn't mind, it gave him ample time to find his family. It gave him time to learn.

For one, he learned that Lysa and Edmure spent all of their time in their rooms. Only leaving for evening meals. He also learned, that they weren't kept under guard anymore, as the majority of the Frey's moved North in order to get back their home or some nonsense. To be completely honest, when Bryden first heard, he had to bite his tongue to hold in the laughter. The situation was kinda ironic at the very least. Lysa also spent a lot of time in the Nursery, which is how he learned his niece, Catelyn, had a healthy boy, the heir to Winterfell.

Oddly enough, Bryden also learned Catelyn was under constant lockdown. Never allowed to leave her room, all of her meals were also brought to her. Worse of all, her newborn child was being kept away from her. It was odd, to say the least, Edmure was kept unguarded, but Cat was the definition of a prisoner. He only learned the reason later on.

Robert Baratheon. The most valuable hostage in the entire war escaped. Because of Catelyn, she apparently recruited half a dozen servants and managed to free the lord of Storm's End. Bryden would have been honestly impressed if he wasn't already here to do the same thing.

It did explain the bodies hanging from Riverrun when he first snuck in, though. Lord Frey must have been furious to learn Robert escaped. Hell, Bryden was kinda furious. It made his job of rescuing Catelyn that much harder.

It mattered not, either way, Bryden was stuck working as a servant, waiting and learning. He did come by some interesting information. For one, he learned once a week the Fray men gambled in the main hall. He also learned, from Maester Vyman, that Riverrun had an overabundance of Nightshade. A perfect and tasteless drug used to help the restless fall into a deep slumber.

From there, it was only a matter of learning who would be working on the night the majority of the Frey's were gambling. A few bribes, a few threats, and the promise of a lordship to a young serving girl and her husband who were willing to slip in the essence of Nightshade into the drinks of a few guards.

The plan wasn't without its faults, but by a few hours before daybreak, the guards had their drinks, and the essence of Nightshade did its job. Bryden stopped in the armory before he began his plan. The Blackfish grabbed a longsword, in case the worse should calm to pass. He also grabbed a short sword for Edmure, and some daggers for Catelyn and Lysa.

Bryden went into Edmure's room first, waking him up with a quick shake. He made sure to put a hand over the boy's mouth to stop him from making too much noise. "Edmure," Bryden whispered. "It's me."

It took a moment, but a look of comprehension soon dawned on the 12-year-old's face. He made a gesture, to signify absolute silence. Which Edmure nodded eagerly at. He also handed the short sword over, much to the boy's delight. "Follow," Bryden commanded. Edmure once again nodded eagerly. He jumped out of his bed, making more noise than he should have. Bryden gave the boy a few moments to gather what he needed. The boy surprised him by grabbing a few coins, a map, and a compass. Showing an abnormal amount of thinking for a boy who was normally a bit foolish.

The pairs next destination was Lysa's room. The door was clear, as was the hallway leading to it. No one truly saw a point in guarding the half-crazed women.

"Edmure, stay here, understand?" Bryden whispered softly.

The boy held his short sword in one hand, and his things in a small sack he carried with him. Edmure gave a salute in understanding, Bryden could not help but roll his eyes.

Bryden opened the door to Lysa's room. To his utter surprise, Lysa was wide awake. The Women was staring at the wall, her blue Tully eyes had a dull and tired look about them. She looked weak, her auburn hair was a mess. Her face was wet with tears. As she turned her head to him, her eyes widened in surprise. She stood suddenly and began to open her mouth.

Bryden couldn't remember the last time he moved so fast. Covering her mouth so quickly, he could feel the hot breath as she tried speaking into his hand. "Lysa," Bryden hissed out. "If they hear us, my head will be on a spike by morning." Her eyes widened at that, and she gave a submissive nod. Without saying a word, he handed her the dagger, and a look of understanding passed between them. Lysa ran around the room, grabbing a bag she had prepared already. She also took an apple from her nightstand.

Once they left her room, the three of them moved to Catelyn's room. Bryden led, they trailed a bit behind. The guards that normally stood outside of Catelyn's room were gone. Knocked unconscious by the Nightshade, and their bodies moved per his instruction. I'll give them one hell of a lordship for this, perhaps Harrenhal or castle Darry, Bryden thought.

Catelyn's room was dark, even so, Catelyn wasn't hard to find. The girl was huddled on a chair in the far corner of the room. A half knitted blanket, barring a Direwolf was in her lap. She looked more a mess than her Sister, and Bryden couldn't help but wonder how long she was kept in her room.

He walked to Cat carefully, shaking her awake, again keeping a hand on her mouth to keep her quiet. Unlike the others, Bryden didn't have to say a word. The look of confusion and fear on cat's face disappeared the second she saw his own. Instead, Cat gave a quick nod, mouthed the word nursery, and moved to follow him out the door. She barely stopped a second to grab a bag she kept under her bed. It wasn't actually surprising, Cat was always the smartest of her siblings, she no doubt told the others to either prepare for an escape or rescue.

He instructed all three of them to wait inside a small bedroom, located just a bit away from the nursery. Yet, close enough to the stable if something should go wrong. The Nursery wasn't far, yet it was also the most heavily guarded room. Normally there were 2 guards at the door at all time, another three would walk the halls. Now, there was one at the door, and one walking the halls. Both guards appeared a bit uneasy, seemingly aware something was wrong.

Bryden left his sword with them, telling Cat what the plan was if something should go wrong, as she was the only one he fully trusted not to mess it up. He walked to the nursery with only a dagger on his belt.

He knew the guard's patrol and knew exactly what corner it would end at. As the guard walking the hallway reached the corner, he made his move.

"Ser." Brynden walked up to the man, who viewed him with suspicion."I found a servant trying to sneak a letter to the boy, Edwin I think his name was." He made sure to sound as meek as possible.

"Did you?" Alcohol was on the man's breath as he opened his mouth. "And what did it say?"

"Well, Ser." Brynden moved quickly, his dirk was in the guard's throat before he had time to react, and began dragging the body around the corner immediately. "Quiet now, wouldn't want to wake anyone, would ya?"His hand is placed around the guard's mouth, blood spurted into his hand, a tiny gurgling noise could be heard, but that was it. There was little point in hiding the body, instead, he just wiped the bloodied dirk on the man surcoat.

The last guard was a fat man, for him, Bryden saw no point in theatrics. He walked up, stabbing him in the throat as soon as he got close enough. He did move the body inside the room this time if only to buy him an extra few minutes.

The young heir to Winterfell was asleep in his crib. Fast asleep, something Bryden thanked the Gods for. The babes auburn hair brought a soft smile to his face. He picked up the boy and moved to rejoin his family.

When he arrived, he handed the baby to Cat without a word. Bryden's niece had silent tears running down her face. She mouthed a simple thank you, and they made their way towards the stables. When they arrived, Maester Vyman, the serving girl, her husband, and few of the other people who helped him were there. Among them, the master of horses who already saddled a few horses for them to ride out on. Another was a midwife, who would help with the care of the child when they rode out.

"We'll open the north gate, y'all better turn south at your first opportunity, though. That or the Frey's will hang you." Horace Wells said the master of horses since even Bryden was a boy. The man had a beard that would make most Northerners jealous. Truly a shame it all turned gray with age.

"Don't worry, I know how to ride. We'll be meeting with some men of mine, We have a camp in the Crownlands, they won't find us." Bryden looked back at his family, then the people accompanying him, finally the master of horses. "Are you sure I can't convince you to come with us? You know what awaits you if you stay"

"Aye, of course, I know what awaits me. I'll be hanging off the ramparts by morning," he scoffed, then spit in a nearby bucket. "Don't you worry, I was born in this castle, only fitting I die here. Besides, someone got to open that gate for y'all."

"Aye, that they do." Bryden took the master of horses hand, a sign of respect. They took a moment to mount their steeds. It took longer than it should have but was down well enough. They had a party of 10, with all the people who decided to accompany them. It would be hard to escape, but a serving boy, no older than 12, agreed to accidently set a fire to cause a distraction. With any luck, they'd be gone before the Freys knew what happened.

When the gates opened, their group dashed out the northern gates, the guards watching the ramparts were unconscious, nightshade being a magical thing. As they rode fast, Bryden could have sworn he saw an orange light coming from his back, but he decided against looking back.

 **Sorry for the Wait for this chapter, please tell me what you think. Thank you to anyone who has reviewed, followed or favorited already.**

 **Part One**

 **Chapter 1: Eddard Stark "Eddard's Rebellion" Updated 9/7/16**

 **Chapter 2: Eddard Stark "King in the North" Updated 9/13/17**

 **Chapter 3: Bryden Tully/ Jon Arryn "War for the Trident" 9/17/16**

 **Chapter 4: Robert Baratheon/ Catelyn Tully "A Stag's Promise"**

 **Chapter 5: Robert Baratheon/ Stannis Baratheon "Trampled Roses"**

 **Chapter 6: Jon Arryn/ Tywin Lannister "Two Hand's, 3 Kings."**


	4. A Lion Still has Claws

**I own nothing related to ASOIAF, which is certainly for the best. This is a rather short chapter simply to acknowledge where everyone is, and what exactly they're doing. Roberts part is especially minor. While I was originally planning on having the Next chapter focus on the war in the South, instead it will likely be a meeting of the major rebel Lords told from Robert's perspective.**

 **Out of curiosity, can anyone explain to me why Catelyn is hated so much? It's just weird to me that everyone seems to ship Ned Stark with anyone but Catelyn.**

"Your being counseled at this very moment."- King Aerys II Targaryen to Tywin Lannister.

 **Tywin Lannister**

"Fools! I'm surrounded by fools and halfwits, there's not a single man in these seven Kingdoms with sense." Tywin raved, his hand slammed down on the desk in front of him, his sister Genna jumped slightly at the sound. Her husband, Emmon Frey sat silently, his face scrunched up in anger and disbelief. Tywin pointed to the letters that were laid out on the desk before him. "Aerys, demands I make haste to King's Landing, to crush the rebellion. The feeble minded fool started this war, his house is in ruins, and he means to drag the Lannisters down with the Targaryens!" He makes demands of me!"

"Well, he is the King," Emmon Frey said softly. It was almost easy to feel bad for Emmon Frey at the moment. As soon as word reached Casterly Rock of Walder Frey's death, Tywin brought the young man into his solar to offer condolences. Yet, it was far easier to despise the second son of Walder Frey. Emmon was a man with few redeemable qualities. He had a boorish personality, looked like a petty thief, and was a halfwit. "We should do as he asks, and march against the rebels at once," the halfwit continued.

Genna, and Tywin's brother Kevan looked at Emmon in slight disbelief. Tywin wondered why Genna looked so surprised, she lived with her husband, surely she knew how foolish he was. Although, to Genna's credit, she made no effort to defend her husband. Tywin didn't bother to turn his head, but he did look up to his brother Kevin who was standing in front of him.

"Get out." Tywin voice spoke calmly, he didn't bother to address Emmon directly, he just allowed his command to be heard. Everyone knew who he was speaking with, even Emmon, the fool, had to be aware of his mistake by this point.

"Well, he is the King, and besides, that Stark bastard murdered my father!" Emmon Frey stood up, showing an amazing amount of bravery for a guest in another man's home. Perhaps Emmon was a bigger fool than he thought, in a way, that was actually quite impressive. "Stark killed my father, it's your duty to march against him with all haste." Emmon's face was twisted in anger, making him look somehow worse.

"Never tell me my duty, do I make myself clear?" Tywin asked, he didn't expect an answer from Emmon, and was grateful the oaf didn't try to give him one."Be grateful it was Stark who killed your father. He's an honorable man, a rarity in these days, his vengeance is done with the death of your father. If it was my wife and my unborn child being held hostage, you wouldn't have a single living relative left. Now go, if you refuse I can arrange to have you carried."

Emmon frey walked out the door without saying another word, his wife gave him a pitying look, but made no move to join him. As Emmon shut the door behind him, there was silence in Tywin's solar. It was only broken by Cersei's near silent laughter.

"I should have stopped Father from marrying you to that fool." Tywin looked over to his sister. "Unfortunately there is little I can do to alleviate the situation now, I only hope you raise your children as Lannisters instead of Freys."

Genna actually smiled at that the comment. "Must you even ask brother? Don't worry, after news reached us from the Twin's he's been a bit willful. But he's under control," Genna assured.

There was a flicker of amusement in Tywin's green eyes, but it died quickly. "I never had a doubt. No matter, it's hardly important at the moment. Aerys is waiting on a response, which gives a very narrow window of opportunity.

"It does? Pray tell, what opportunity would that be?" Kevan asked, genuinely curious.

"He's waiting for for me to show up and fight this rebellion for him, knowing full well that as long as he has Jaime in his Kingsguard my hands are tied. I'll have to move quickly if I don't want him to do something rash. Kevan be prepared, in a week's time we march out." Tywin said, his brother nodded dutifully at him.

"You'll side with Aerys?" Genna asked, confused. "I've never known you to choose the losing side of any war."

"You need not worry, plans are in motion. Besides, have you ever known me to choose the wrong side?" He asked? With that question, he dismissed them, Tywin was seated back at his desk when Cersei spoke.

"You'll support the The Starks?" Cersei asked, long after everyone else left.

Tywin hesitated before answering, wondering how much he should reveal to his daughter. After a moment he answered, "Eddard Stark, from what I know, is an honorable man. He is a proven general, and its well known that he heeds the advice of his councillors. He would do well as a King, especially with a competent hand." He paused for a second before continuing. "Even so, we are no friends of the Starks. If we were to support him, we would gain nothing but a grateful King. he also has no claim to the Iron throne. If he were to sit upon the throne, and declare himself king of the seven kingdoms, Westeros would fall to pieces within a few generations. Likely as soon as he died. For the good of the realm Stark cannot take the Iron Throne, we should be grateful he likely doesn't want it."

"Then you really mean to declare for Aerys? He roasted people alive, and after everything he's done to disrespect our family?" Cersei asked, a look of disappointment crossing her features.

"Perhaps, or maybe you haven't considered every option. Think on this Cersei, I'm sure you'll find the answer if you give it thought. Now if you don't mind, I have letters to write." Cersei began to reluctantly walk out the door, however before she could leave, Tywin spoke once more.

"One last thing, Cersei." Tywin began writing, he didn't look up at his daughter as he wrote.

"Yes, father?"

"Do you still wish to be Queen?"

 **Catelyn**

High Heart was as ancient as it was desolate. At one point, it was said to be a sacred place for the children of the forest, not that Catelyn believed such nonsense. The clearing in the centre of High Heart was surrounded by the stumps of 31 weirwood trees, a seemingly fitting place to hide the Stark Heir from men who would do him harm. It was also their resting place for the night, and fairly comfortable compared to their last few.

Once they escaped Riverrun, they began to head south, admittedly Catelyn was confused to why they didn't head North, but Bryden assured them they were less likely to get caught this way. Without much of a choice, she hesitantly followed her uncle south, and she wasn't disappointed to admit, Bryden was completely right. In all their time traveling, they hadn't even come across any frey men.

"Aren't you worried about raising your son in the woods? He could catch a disease or get ticks." Lysa said in mock worry. After a moment, when Catelyn still had not answered, she spoke again. "Well i suppose he is a Stark, he might have to get used to living outside. Maybe you should fear for flees rather than ticks? "

Catelyn loved her sister, she truly did, but the last few days of traveling have been aggravating. Her sister was seemingly more unstable by the day. Catelyn wasn't sure what the catalyst was, but ever since they escaped RIverrun, Lysa had begun lashing out on people. She was normally rude to Catelyn, she ignored Edmure, and she constantly criticized Bryden. Blaming him for everything that ailed her, it was almost like she despised him for not singlehandedly recapturing Riverrun.

"I have nothing to fear, I assure you. The midwife Uncle Brynden brought with us is more than capable of caring for Rob." Catelyn said politely, even though it strained her to do so. "Even if I did, I shan't fear fear for very long. Uncle Brynden assures that we should reach Acorn Hall any day now."

Lysa was about to say more, but was interrupted.

"Will it be safe there?" Edmure asked, joining their conversation. Her brother was dirty from head to toe, but was in great spirits. It was no surprise, it seemed any moment they weren't riding, Edmure spent rolling in the mud. The youngest Tully was perhaps the only one of them actually enjoying this, as he saw the entire ordeal as a great adventure. He also loved the idea of being a true Knight and protecting his sisters from harm.

"Of course it will be, house Smallwood is a loyal bannerman of fathers. They were among the first of the noble houses of the Trident to join father in this rebellon. Even now, Lord Smallwood fights alongside father to reclaim Riverrun." She smiled, and squeezed Edmure's shoulder. "If by chance they aren't as loyal as we thought, then it's a good thing we have you to protect us, is it not?"

Edmure blushed and smile, happy with the praise.

"Aye, you're doing a fantastic job protecting us all, maybe your father would let me take you on as a squire when this all said and done." Bryden walked behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. The boy smiled at him, and began to babble excitedly about the prospect of being a squire.

 _We're a family for better or for worse, this is how it should be,_ Catelyn thought. Bryden saving them, Lysa and Edmure near constant arguing, Brydens unwavering strength, it made her think. Of her husband, her son, her future, and their family. Truly, the seven were blessed to have gifted her so much. After Riverrun fell, she nearly lost hope, releasing Robert was her way of trying to save her family.

Now, her family didn't really need saving, Ned was winning the war, Bryden, Lysa, and Edmure were at her side. Her own father was marching to join Ned as she spoke. Things were looking up, and while they had a long way to go, she had faith in her family.

The very next night they set out to Acorn hall. Where, if the seven allowed it, lady Smallwood would give them refuge, and a safe place to rest.

 **Robert Baratheon**

Gods it felt good to be back. Out for a few months and you miss the whole damned war. Could be worse, he could have been born a twisted dragonspawn. He thanked the gods everyday he didn't end up like his grandmother. He was beyond grateful what his father said about Baratheons was true, the seed is indeed strong.

He heard about the war, about the battles fought, the men killed, everything from the taverns on the road. The rumour mill was as strong as ever. Most were foolish, like the one about Jon Arryn riding a giant phoenix, or Ned being the Great other, but Others provided some insight.

Ned was the King in the North, and had 3 of the 7 kingdoms in his domain. Most people were under the impression he was killed on the Trident. Tywin Lannister was still hold up in Casterly Rock, probably pacing the halls and shitting gold at his leisure. Aerys was still insane, and Rhaegar's death made him even more unstable. By some miracle, Stannis was still held up in Storm's End. Although he hoped the rumors about cannibalism were false.

Still, it didn't matter, after missing the majority of their blasted war he was back. Now he just needed to find a girl to fuck, and some Targaryens to kill, the life would be well and truly perfect. He also needed to get back Lyanna. He imagined she would be safe for a while now that Rhaegar was dead. Besides he had a debt to pay back first.

Catelyn, Gods Ned was a lucky men, that girl barged in his cell. Her red hair was a mess, she had tear streaked eyes, and she was obviously going to give birth very soon. Even so, he saw a fire in his eyes he didn't know she possessed. She asked him to save Ned, and how could he say no, he was going to do it anyway, and she looked so desperate. So he agreed, and she release him from his shackles, evidently not giving a damn about what might happen to her.

As soon as he escaped Riverrun, he nearly ran his way back to the Stormlands. He made a promise he would save Ned, and he damn well intended to keep it. He found whatever loyal men that could still be found in the Stormlands, and dragged them back North. Many of his lords didn't respond, but he assured himself he would reward whoever decided to help him.

Some 12,000 men came back with him north, many were hesitant, wanting to break the siege of Storm's End first, but he'd be damned before he did that. He was brave, not recklessly stupid. Mace tyrell still had 60,000 people outside the castle, stannis was on his own until he could get a bigger army.

They marched North as fast as they card, and on the way they were lucky enough to catch some targaryen loyalist on the Kingsroad. Small group nothing major, from questioning he knew they were going to a new Targaryen host at Harrenhal. With that in mind, he knew his destination. It's been a while, and he had a thirst for battle.

The battle for Harrenhal couldn't even be called a battle in retrospect. It was a slaughter, 8,000 untrained Targaryen soldiers, most of whom were just peasant farmers, were essentially slaughter by Robert's force. The barely armed men broke after a quick skirmish, and Robert decided not to chase after them. He took the victory for what it was and didn't question it. He knew there would be no songs about this battle. No busty maidens would swoon over this victory, this was just a footnote in a much larger conflict. Even so, it felt fantastic to be back in thick of things.

He threw a feast that night to celebrate his victory, and the Whents who he saved from occupation gladly paid for the thing. There was a grand feast, that rivaled the splendor of the Tourney of Harrenhal a year prior. Lord Whent's two daughters also proved to be wonderfully accommodating, and perfectly flexible.

He ate like a King, and soon he figured he would be one. Robert ordered the castle smith to begin working on a crown, a golden antlered helm he could wear into battle.

Over the next few days, he sent scouts out to try and find Ned and Jon, he need to their status before he chose his next action. It didn't take long to hear of Direwolf banners flying over Riverrun. It took even less time to order his men to depart. It's been far too long since he saw Ned anyway.

 **Tell me what you think, and reviews are appreciated and considered. Thank you to anyone who followed, favorited, or reviewed.**


	5. The Dragon

**I own nothing in relation to game of thrones.**

 **By the way, if I made Robert look weak in anyway, that was accidental. At this point in time, he is probably the best fighter alive. The only other contenders for that title would be Arthur Dayne, and perhaps Jaime Lannisters.**

 **Robert Baratheon**

The ride to Riverrun was intentionally slow paced. Robert took the time to send riders to nearby settlements. These riders, were tasked with bringing back information regarding the war. Most of what they brought back was useless information, or rumors. However, Robert did learn one thing of note. Tywin Lannister was on the move.

Reports vary, but most agreed that the Lord Paramount of the westerlands had called his banners. Some said that he was already marching, while others say he still waiting in Casterly Rock. A few scant reports even claim that the Old Lion had captured King's Landing. Either way, Tywin would have to be dealt with.

Robert arrived at the gates of Riverrun quickly. As he made his way through the camp surrounding the fortress, Robert noticed the tension in the air. His army made camp a bit south of the Tully Fortress, and he only brought a few men with him to see Ned and Jon. That wasn't the issue, the issue was the panicked way the Northerners looked at him. The way the Men of the Trident and the Vale looked at him with confusion.

 _Gods the way there looking at me, it's like they think I'm sleeping with their wives and burning down their houses. What happened? Six months ago they were fighting to put me on the throne, now they're afraid i'll take Med's crown._

He was greeted at the Gate by Vardis Egen, the captain of Jon Arryn's household guard. A man who he had a lot of experience with, the man helped raise Robert honestly. It's a shame Vardis is such a boring man, otherwise the pair of them would have been much closer.

"Hello, my lor-". Vardis began before pausing. As if he was unsure how to address the man before him."Your Grace?"

"Vardis, it's been awhile. I haven't seen you since Gulltown. No matter, wheres Ned and Jon." Robert questioned.

"His Grace, King Stark, and the Hand of the King, Lord Arryn, are currently in a meeting with the war council." Vardis said, ignoring all pretense of pleasant conversation. That wasn't really a surprise, the two were never on the best of terms to begin with.

"That's nice," Robert said, keeping his face still as to not show his reaction to his friends new titles. "But I didn't ask what they were doing, I asked where they are. I would appreciate if you could lead me to them."

Vardis opened his mouth to speak, but apparently thought better of it as he shut his mouth a bit too forcefully. With a resignated sigh, he motioned for Robert to follow him, then began leading him through the Tully Fortress.

Riverrun was one of the larger castles in the realm. It was no Harrenhal, but was still capable of holding thousands. As he walked through the ancient keep, Robert was slightly shocked to see the sheer quantity of smallfolk in the castle. There had to be hundreds of peasants in the castle. women and children were outnumbering the soldiers.

After too long of a walk, Robert found himself outside of what was presumably Hoster Tully's Solar. Vardis walked to the door, and gently knocked. The man waited then, waiting to be addressed by the rooms occupants. Robert could hear voices coming from with the room, not shouting, but a heated discussion to be sure.

Robert didn't have the patience for this, without saying a word, he pushed Vardis to the side, and march his way through the door.

The room was spacious, and well designed. A well made oaken desk carved with the Tully trout was positioned on the far side of the room. On the desk lay maps of westeros, as well as a bottle of a vintage wine. The windows in the room were covered by heavy red Curtains that seemed to block out the sun. The only light resignated from the sconces that dotted the walls of the room, and the few candles positioned strategically around the solar. A rug that was a deep Tully red covered most of the wooden floor. In the Centre of the room, a long table was positioned, so that the lords could discuss matters of importance.

Robert only recognized a few people at the table. Jon Arryn had his back too him initially, but turned to him as soon as he barged in the door. His blue eyes were now wide in shock, as his face went through a myriad of emotions. Hoster Tully sat on the Right side of the table his red-grey hair seeme to blend with the walls, and he regarded Robert with visible unease.

Three men, who he never met, but he felt as if he could safely guess their identities by the sigils on their chest. Lord Reed and Lord Bolton seemed more interested than shocked to see him. Bolton's pale face, and uncomforting appearance went very well with his sigil. Lord Umber didn't even seem to recognize him, and looked at him with mild annoyance.

At the far end of the table sat Ned Stark. His boyhood friend seemed older than his 20 some odd years. He seemed tired, but that didn't stop ned Stark from nearly leaping from his chair when he saw him. Ned wore a crown on top of his head, wrought in bronze, silver, and iron The crown proudly displayed 9 swords pointed to the sky. Runes were incised in gold on the crown, and the mold of a snarling silver wolf lay on the front of the crown..

The King in the North stood still as a statue. His arms rested heavily to his sides, while his face went through a myriad of emotions in a matter of minutes. Ned's steel grey eyes were guarded, but soon gave way to pure relief. He opened his mouth, but didn't say a word.

As Red tried and failed to find words, Robert moved to his fellow King. Jon Umber made a move to stop him, but a Lord Reed whispered something in his ear, causing the Lord of Last hearth to stop, and sit back down.

When he reached his friend, Robert enveloped the slightly younger man in a bone crushing hug. Ned let out a slight gasp, then he tentatively returned the hug. The King in the North still looked as if he saw a ghost, but seemed to be recovering.

"Ned, it's been too long!" Robert bellowed as he let go of the embrace. His adoptive brother staggered slightly as Robert let go, but it went unnoticed by those in the room. Jon Arryn stood up, and made his way over to them. "You grew a beard, I like it!" Robert laughed, and patted Ned on the back, causing him to stumble once again.

"Robert, I thought. The Frey's said they shipped you to Aerys." Eddard looked at him in shock, his hand unconsciously going towards his new beard.

"My Lords, our discussion can wait, would you mind leaving us for a moment." Jon Arryn spoke calmly, as he stared at the two kings. There was no hiding the Joy on Jon Arryn's face, and he enveloped his adoptive son in a hug nearly as soon as the words left his mouth. Without much of a word, the lord's began their shuffle from the room.

"It seems the Frey's have been keeping information from us. I shall head to the dungeons and uncover the full truth, have no fear, Your Grace." Lord Bolton said to Ned before sweeping from the room. As soon as he left, Robert felt as if the room got slightly brighter.

As all the lords left, and Jon suggested they all take seats. Jon and Ned took their normal seats, while Robert sat in between them, taking lord Umber's former spot. The two caught up with one another for a moment, laughing about the past, and speaking of the future.

It didn't take long to explain the circumstances behind his escape. Ned understandably grew concerned at the mention of his wife, and tried his best to learn of her whereabouts. His concern was replaced with disappointment when he realized Robert knew even less about his wife's status then he did. Jon Arryn waited patiently till the very end of the story, without saying much of anything.

"You know Ned, I gotta admit, this isn't what I was expecting. When your wife freed me from Riverrun, it was with the promise I would do whatever I could to save you," Robert said after the story finished. He carried a hint of disappointment in his voice, as if sad he wouldn't get to save his friend. "Now I finally get here, and discover you don't even need saving. Not only that, but I discover that you're the King of half the realm."

"Things have gotten a bit out of hand,' Ned admitted. "I never desired to be a King, I still have no desire to be king, to be completely truthful. However, my men have declared me so. It would be dishonorable for me to give up the crown."

Robert scoffed at that, "Dishonorable? Why is everything always about honor with you?" Robert questioned. "It makes no difference now, you're a King. I'm not gonna take that away, not that I could anyway. Besides, you bloody deserve it. My only question is what do we now?"

"Before you interrupted, we were in the middle of creating terms to send to Aerys." Jon Arryn said, much to Robert's bewilderment.

"You were going to bargain with Aerys!" You'd have to be madder than him to think he would accept anything." Robert said, standing up and knocking over Lord Umber's ale in the process. The brown liquid ran across the table, and ruined what were presumably the terms they drafted.

Jon frowned seeing his work ruined, but said nothing.

"We have to avoid any more death if we can. My men are weary of further fighting, and will have to return North soon in order to tend to the fields. I like it no better than you, but an attempt has to be made," Ned reasoned.

"Don't worry, the terms were set in a way that Aerys would never have agreed to them. We were demanding the independence of the North, Vale, and the Trident. We also demanded a fair bit of the Crownlands and compensation for the Riverlands. Not to mention the safe return of Lyanna Stark," Jon Arryn said, trying to reassure his former ward, not that it did much good.

Robert fidgeted slightly at the mention of Lyanna, but said nothing about his betrothed. "Out of curiosity, when speaking of the Crownlands, how much is a fair bit?"

"Everything North of King's Landing for starters." Ned said, as if he thought the idea was amusing.

"He'd probably have a breakdown just reading the terms," Robert scoffed. "Even so, I noticed a few banners from the Crownlands in your rank, how did you manage that?"

"There's no loyalty south. It seems like everyone just sides with whoever they think will win this war. They came when Prince Martell surrendered, and said they would fight for me until the war is done."Ned stated calmly, although he seemed slightly bored. It was the same look he had in the Vale when Jon forced him to tell a story that Robert already had.

"They'll probably expect to be rewarded for their efforts?" Jon informed him.

"They need not fear then, I always reward loyalty."

"I have no doubt about that Ned," Robert laughed. "The only question now is how we split the Crownlands. Which goes to your kingdom, and which goes to mine?"

"Your Kingdom? You mean to still press your claim?" Jon asked, doubt seemed to cloud his features for a moment. Ned leaned in with curiosity.

"Of course I plan on pressing my claims, don't you see this blasted crown on my head?"Robert stated like it was the most obvious thing in the seven kingdoms. In a way it was. "Is there a reason I wouldn't?"

 _Why would I give up my claim. I'm not bowing to a damned dragoon, and the south would never bend the knee to a wolf of Winterfell._

"Honestly, we've been working under the impression that Aerys had you in the Black cells. Your release was going to be one of our demands." Ned said, defensively. "I meant no disrespect, just, you being a King was not a possibility that we considered."

"Now that you're free," Job began. "It seems the game has once again changed. If we fight for you to keep the south, then we have our next move mapped out for us."

"Agreed, this changes things dramatically. We'll have to prepare the men for another battle. Taking King's Landing should allow us to end this war for good." Ned said, determination filled his grey eyes. It reminded Robert of the look Ned gave him when the news of Rickard and Brandon reached the Eyrie. The desperation in the Stark's face, that was quickly replaced with a cold fury.

 _Ned and Jon are with me no matter what, not that I ever doubted it for a moment._

"It would, but Lord Tyrell's host is still out there somewhere. If we march against King's Landing, his men will be able to slaughter us against the walls," Jon stated. "We have to take care of them before we make any moves against King's Landing."

"When I went to gather men in the Stormlands, I heard that Mace Tyrell's host was still camped outside of Storm's End. It seems he content to starve Stannis out. It's good for us that us Baratheons are a hardy bunch. Stannis will die before giving up that castle," Robert said, pride was evident in his voice, but there was also a hint of doubt.

"It's been nearly a year and a half, I never doubted Stannis's resolve for a moment,"Jon Arryn spoke. "What I do doubt, is his ability to hold out much Longer. We'll have to move quickly if we want to save him. He might very well be the most resilient man in Westeros, but that means nothing when you have nothing to eat but your own dead."

"Aye, and your younger brother is there as well. Renly was his name,correct?" Ned questioned. Robert nodded in confirmation and Ned continued speaking. "A boy his age won't be able to survive on rations forever, breaking the siege at Storm's End, and assuring the Tyrell's surrender, should be our primary concern."

Robert sighed, " If Stannis held on this long, he can hold on for another month. Besides,Tyrell is a lazy bastard, he's content to sit outside Storm's End, and feast. He won't involve himself unless he has too. If we take King's landing quick enough, he'll surrender rather than fight."

"How can we be sure? The Tyrells owe their status to the Targaryens, Mace might be far more loyal than you thought," Jon said.

"Mace Tyrell is many things, but he isn't suicidal. Once Aerys is done, he'll bend the knee to me. He won't have much of a choice. Besides, on my march here, I heard rumors of the Lannisters stirring from Casterly Rock." Roberts said, immediately grabbing the other two's attention.

"Lannisters? There a bit late." Eddard said. "Why would Tywin get involved now? He has no love for Aerys."

"True, but he has no love for the Starks and Baratheons either. Tywin can raise nearly 50,000 men, and with his coin, he can hire an army of mercenaries." Jon arryn frowned, his lips thinned into a narrow line and he appeared to be deep in thought. "It matters not if the rumors are true. If Tywin truly sides with the Mad king, worse, if he joins with Mace Tyrell, we stand a real chance of losing this war. We need to take King's Landing and finish Aerys before Tywin lannister has a chance to involve himself."

"Taking King's Landing is no easy feat, but I saw that army outside your gates, we can storm the gates. Kings Landing will fall if we march." Robert said, he became eager at the prospect of battle.

"Aye, that it will. We have to move before Tywin Lannister, and we have no idea when he'll get there. I can have my men ready to march within a week, what of you, Lord Arryn?" Ned asked, formulation the beginnings of a plan.

"A week should suffice. Hoster's men are tired, but they should be able to join us. The lords of the Crownlands as well. Lor-, apologies, I mean King Baratheon, will your men be ready within a week.

"My men are ready now, make no mistake, I plan on this bloody war."

 **Aerys Targaryen**

Traitors, they were all traitors. He had no one now. Rhaegar was dead, Mace was incompetent, Rhaella was nothing more than an adulterating whore, and the Martells have lost. He was alone now. Forced to rely on an upjumped servant like Tywin Lannister to save his kingdom.

"Is everything alright, your Grace?" Jaime Lannister asked as approached the throne. He was late, Aerys swore he asked for him hours ago, well maybe not, things blurred together now. It all passed in a haze.

"Do either of us actually care if I'm alright? It makes no difference now anyway. Baratheon will march soon, and your father will meet him in the battlefield." Aerys leaned forward, careful not to stab himself on the thrones sharp barbs. "I'll be better than alright when your father sends me the heads of the traitors.

"My father?"

"Can't hold in your surprise? I know it is shocking, your father actually honoring the oaths he made to his king."Aerys continued to speak, his voice was near a whisper. His long nails, which were more like talons, rapped repeatedly on his armrests."No matter, that's not why I called for you. Ser jaime, you are the last of My Kingsguard in King's Landing. I ask, why is that?"

"The rest departed with prince Rhaegar, your grace." Jamie said, he seemed hesitant to answer the question. As well as genuinely uncomfortable with his current situation."I am needed here to protect you, your grace."

"Do you honestly believe you're in my Kingsguard to protect me? No, there are a hundred different men more suitable to the task then a Lannister." Aerys didn't allow Jamie to answer the question. Instead, Aerys gave an order with his hand, and a dozen Gold Cloaks marched into the room. "You're my hostage Jaime, and you have always been my hostage. I know your father, he's an opportunist. He'll see my son's failure and take this as a weakness. I'll need to control him, and the one way to tame a lion is by holding his cub."

Jaime looked uneasily at the guards around the King."This is unnecessary, your grace. I am your loyal servant, I would never go against you."

"Loyal! You're just like the rest of the Kingsguard. Those fools were loyal to my son, when they should have been loyal to their King!" Aerys fumed, and stood suddenly, his shadow casting over Jaime Lannister. "Lewyn Martell was reportedly captured by the wolf, and his army defeated. Dorne's army has never been defeated in a thousand years, but i'm supposed to believe some northern second son defeated what the Young dragon could not. No, Lewyn Martell made a deal, and is trying to protect his sister from my wraith!"

"Your Grace, Prince Martell was honorable, he would never betray you! I would never betray you," Jamie said, his voice grew less convincing. The son of Tywin looked at the door behind him, only to realize more gold cloaks were pouring into the room.

"Honor means nothing in this world. Did honor stop Rickard Stark from burning? Did honor compel my foolish son to stay loyal to his wife? What matters in this world is power, and by holding you hostage I hold power over your father." Aerys smiled brightly, and sat back down on his throne. "Take him into custody. Don't kill him, but handle him befitting his station." Aeys smirked with malice. Knowing how a lord paramount was treated, Jaime had no doubts about how he would be handled.

Jaime Lannister drew his sword, and for a moment, it appeared he would rush the King. Instead, Jaime lowered his weapon, before dropping it to the floor. The clang of metal on the tiled floor was one of the finest sounds Aerys ever heard.

The Gold Cloaks quickly surrounded the Knight of the Kingsguard, and led him out of the room to the Black cells. Jaime held his head up high, even as he was half dragged from the throne room.

"Someone fetch me a quill and some paper. I have a letter to write." A servant rushed off to fulfill his request, bowing deeply as she left. After a moment of thought, Aerys added, "fetch me the singers as well. I have a strange need to listen to that Lannister song. The Rains of Castamere if I recall correctly.

 _Be it Wolf, Stag, Lion, or Falcon, none compare to the Dragon. And I am the Dragon, soon they will all burn._

 **Thanks to anyone who reviews, follows, or favorites.**


	6. King's gambit

**I own less than nothing, at least when it concerns this series. I'm incredibly sorry about the wait for this chapter, finals all but killed me this semester and I had a lot of things to do otherwise.**

 **Jon Arryn**

Future historians will claim that Ned's Rebellion as the men of the Northern Kingdoms call it, or Robert's Rebellion as the Southerners prefer, ended the day Ned Stark took the head of Walder Frey. Some might even argue it ended earlier than that, the day when Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark, two future Kings, struggled in the mud to kill a lone prince. However, the truth is far different, and history is rarely as simple as anyone believes

For one, both of Jon's wards knew that they lost the war. They knew that as soon as they were hailed as kings that the entire point of the conflict would be overlooked. Robert never wanted to be King, he never even wanted to be a lord. Ned, for his part, simply fell into more and more power because of the loyalty he distills into those around him. Jon knew he himself was guilty of placing far too much trust in Ned, or rather, King Eddard I. The war was always fought over one woman, Lyanna Stark, two new dynasties and thousands of lives later, not a soul was closer to finding her.

Even Still, his wards were rather gifted at playing their parts.

"The War is over! That's what every man says, that me and Ned have ended a 300 year old dynasty, and soon we will restore peace to the seven kingdoms!" Robert Shouted, he paced back and forth on the raised platform erected for this very moment. Robert's best friend and chosen brother, King Eddard Stark stood behind him, as did his adoptive father the honorable Lord Jon Arryn. "Any man says that war is over is a damned fool. Aerys may have lost the battles, but the war is not yet won! In that city there's a mad men, a man who justifies kidnapping girls, burning innocent men, and killing anyone who questions his right to rule. Until he lies dead, we are not yet free!"

A resounding cheer erupted at Roberts declaration, and Jon nodded approvingly at Roberts little show. It was something Jon argued against initially, but admittedly it was an excellent way to instill moral in the men.

"I have a question for every man hear? Does Aerys own these seven Kingdoms?!" Robert asked as he stood in front of the crowd, and the people yelled back a resounding no. "Then i ask every last one of you, who owns the north?!"

"King Eddard!" The men shouted together, and their voices resounded throughout the camp. Jon noticed the small smile that appeared on Ned's face.

"Then who owns the south?!"

"King Robert!" just as loud, the voices shouted again, the heavens would tremble, and the seas would part in the face of such ferocity.

Robert smiled, and he let out a laugh. He looked over to his left to see Jon's smile, and the lord of the Vale gave him an approving nod. Next to Jon, Ned's amusement was clear as day, and the normally dour man seemed genuinely amused by his friends speech. "Fantastic! Every bloody one of you!" Robert continued. "Now that you told me who owns these blasted kingdoms. It's time that you showed me!"

It was his que now, and Jon always aimed to please. He raised his right hand far in the air, then brought it down suddenly, as he did, a loud horn erupted, one that resounded throughout the camp. That was Lord Tully's que too began his assault.

Robert dismissed the crowd, declaring he wanted Aerys dead by nightfall, and left the stage. Eddard was quick to march off to his own men, likely preparing his horse for the assault. Howland Reed quickly appeared by Ned's side, the crannogman offered Ned a helmet, but the Stark lord turned it down for his crown.

Jon himself decided to follow Robert to his tent, knowing he would have to talk the Baratheon out of doing something needlessly risky.

"I don't like this," Robert said as he walked into his command tent. Jon followed swiftly behind him"This seems cowardly to me, and I'm no coward jon."

"You don't have to like it truthfully." Jon said calmly." However, we can't risk losing you as of yet. We have no word on the status of Renly and Stannis, both could be dead as far as we know," Jon said politely, although he did feel himself wince slightly when he mentioned Renly's potential death.

"Stannis is the toughest little bastard I ever had the displeasure of meeting. I'd be surprised if Mace survived that siege against Stannis. I get your argument, i do. If i die there's no one to sit on that ugly throne. Ned has his heir, and Benjan as a spare if the worst comes to pass, but the Baratheons are nearly extinct."

"That they are, worry not the Arryns are not exactly doing well either. It was Eddard who insisted that I stay here with you. He's obviously concerned about are houses. Besides, as soon as the streets of king's Landing are clear, we will join Eddard at the Red Keep. Worry not Robert, it will be Lord Tully who leads this assault anyway."

 **Eddard Stark**

Ned marched with his men, as was the custom. Fortuned appeared to be on their side for once, as the gates were lightly guarded. The army of Goldcloaks that normally patrolled the gates seemed to have retreated to the Red Keep itself, perhaps to Maegor's holdfast. Knowing the battle was lost, Aerys appeared to have made the decision to make his last stand in the throne room. It made Ned uneasy, simply because it didn't match Aerys character. The idea was almost rational, except Aerys was anything but rational. It didn't match the man's character to put thought into this battle.

Lord Tully volunteered for the honor of leading the troops through the gate, and as Jon Arryn insisted it was far too dangerous for either him or Robert to lead the assault, Ned had no issue giving his friend the honor. He and Howland marched side by side, far behind the majority of the main group. It was calm, almost peaceful in a humorous sort of way, then it changed.

There was no warning, none from the old gods, certainly none from the new.

The monotonous sounds of soldiers talking and laughing ended with a hiss. The sound of a buildup of pressure, so similar to the sounds of pipes in Winterfell, but so peculiar, so different at the same time. In one moment, Ned was talking to Howland as they passed through the gate of the gods, the next, there was a scream, the sound of a crash, far louder than anything he has ever head in his life. It sounded like a true Dragon, and for a moment, Ned feared the Targaryens of old had risen to protect their city, even worse, he wondered if the Gods saw fit to gift the mad king with a dragon of his own.

Then he saw it, the Great Sept, the symbol of the faith and the seven gods was on fire. A green fire that reached to the heavens, encompassing the entirety of the Great Sept of Baelor, and spreading outwards. The blast, blinded Ned even from it's great distance. As he regained his vision, he saw the bell from the Great Sept fall into the apartments below, presumably crushing any civilian in it's path.

There was no time to react, again without warning, the Dragon Pit, the home of Balerion the Black Dread erupted in a similar inferno. Two of King's landing's most iconic landmarks gone in an instan. Ned was aware of the panicked voices behind him and around him. Soldiers and civilians alike began loudly cursing and speaking. Another explosion erupted, one out of sight, but Ned still heard it clearly. Ned felt his heart quicken, and fear began to consume him, the blast didn't cease, all around him the city erupted into flames.

Ned's horse began to buck, as did Howland's, they were knocked off into the mud, and their horses ran through the streets of King's Landing. Ned looked up from his position on the ground to notice the majority of his men, and quite a few civilians, in a similar position. Howland let out sharp intake of breath, and a soft almost inaudible grown as the crannogman looked down at his leg. Bent in an unnatural angle, Ned grimaced at the pain he knew his friend was facing.

"Howland, can you stand?" Ned asked as struggled to his feet.

Howland looked down at his leg, then back up at his lord. "Really, your grace?"

"Pardons, a foolish question I must admit." Ned went to his friend's side, and examined his leg, which was clearly broken. Doing his best to ignore the chaos around him, Eddard began giving orders, doing his best to reign in the chaos around him."You!" Ned pointed to the first men he saw, a Glover man, unless he was mistaken.

"Your grace?" The soldier stammered out uncertain.

"Find some men, and move Lord Reed! He must be moved immediately!" Ned shouted, his voice resounding even in the chaos that followed the eruption of the sept.

"Of course!" The man saluted, running off quickly to follow his orders.

"You, find lord Umber, tell him to initiate a full retreat, we can't risk getting caught in another blast!" Ned ordered quickly to another man, and the man nodded before going to follow his orders. As the the man turned his back on Ned, an arrow pierced his neck, spraying blood on his King as he fell to the ground lifeless.

"Get down your grace!" A soldier yelled before tackling him to the dirt, an arrow shot through the air, embedding itself were Eddard was previously. Unfortunately, that happened to be in the shoulder of Howland Reed.

"For Aerys!" The Gold Cloaks yelled, as they appeared from the houses and shops on the streets. Some of the men were not even gold cloaks, just peasant men given a sword, even a few boys no older then four and ten.

"The King in the North!" Eddard's men were quick to respond. Men from the North, Vale, and the Riverlands fought to protect their liege lord. Roughly 50 men surrounded Eddard at all time for his protection, those numbers were steadily dropping as the Northerners were far too unprepared for the Gold Cloak assault.

"Someone move howland!" Ned shouted, and without hesitation he stood up, his longsword already in hand. The crown Lord manderly made for him lied forgotten in the dirt. Ned rushed to join his men, carefully noting the archers positioned throughout the street. The Goldcloaks had no horses, but they were armed with spears, making it difficult for any of Ned's men to get close. The peasantry they recruited were ill trained and worsley equipped, but were quite the distraction.

He knew this type of assault could not be sustained, the Gold Cloaks never numbered above 3,000 even in times of war, and Ned brought 25,000 men to assault the city.

Even more men waited outside the gates, and if Ned knew Robert, he knew the second robert heard the explosion, he would order every available men to storm King's Landing. They would only have to hold out, but for how long?

What was likely only a few moments, lasted for a lifetime for Ned. Two more northern men dropped, Howland stayed on the ground immobile, and Ned felt an arrow pierced his shoulder, and despite his best effort, the King in the North fell to the ground in agony. Gripping the shaft of the arrow that protruded from his shoulder, Ned broke it before looking up. A house stood before him, guarded only by a single man. Ned stood up on shaky legs, and ran to the goldcloak guarding the door was unprepared for the Northern King Tackling him to the ground. Ned lay on top the man, without thinking, Ned grabbed his dagger, and buried it in the man's throat. The man gurgled and died, it occurred to Ned this was the second time he killed a man in such a dishonorable fashion, the first being Rhaegar.

Ned crawled over the man into the house. His remaining 14 men followed him, fighting off goldcloaks as they did. Their numbers and position would count for little inside the house, assuming they didn't set the damn thing on fire. Ned turned around, and looked out the door. It was a simple decision, but one he would regret for the rest of his life, no matter how long it be.

In the middle of the street a goldcloak had his hand raised, an axe in his hand. He brought it down sharply, right into the face of Howland Reed.

 **Tywin Lannister**

The city was in flames, burning in the distance, a vibrant green that could be seen from miles around. Wildfire, an unmistakable substance, even those with only a passing familiarity with the alchemist guild could recognise the effects of such a substance. The smell of shit would normally be detected from King's Landing, but not today. The winds carried only the scent of ash and death. Civilians were likely burning alive, crying for their loved ones, and cursing the invading armies to each of the seven hells. It's almost humorous, their own King, the man sworn to protect the weak, burning down the city his forefathers built out of spite. Aerys was truly mad, there's no denying that.

20,000 lannister men in arms marched along the Gold Road to King's Landing, only to freeze at the sight before them. The Grandest City of Westeros was dying, and with it, Tywin could already see the future that was in store for the Seven Kingdoms. The Gold in the royal treasury gone, the most profitable city gone, half a million men dead, and the complete collapse of the economy in Westeros, and by extension, the world. Outside the city walls, Tywin could spot the rebel camps, proudly displaying the Direwolf, the Stag, and the Eagle of Arryn. If he looked closely, Tywin could see the very same banners burning on the walls of King's Landing. The world wasn't ready for this.

"It seem's were far too late," Kevan said, his eyes were locked on the city of King's landing. The green eyes that Kevan shared with his brother glowed softy, reflecting the fires of the city before them.

"My son's in there." Tywin was never one for stating the obvious, yet he couldn't quite stop himself. Despite everything, he never quite believed Aerys could be mad enough for something quite like this. As children, they played together. In the gardens of the Red keep they were Knights saving fair maidens. In Casterly Rock, they were dragons, defending their gold from any adventurers. As they grew old, their games became less childish, but they were still there. It was less about protecting the honor of fair maidens, and more about saving the realm. Then, they grew older still, madness took Aerys, their friendship withered and died, they both grew to be bitter and distrustful, and parted ways full of hatred towards one another. Yet, Tywin felt a bit of genuine shock, as the man who extinguished the Reynes of Castamere, he could understand the need for harsh actions, but this was insane.

Now the city burned in the distance, hundreds of thousands would die, and the realm would fall into even deeper chaos. If Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark were inside the City, if they perished with Aerys, there would be no saving the realm, the seven kingdoms would once again be seven Kingdoms. Those two were needed, they carried more authority than anyone else in the realm. If they were too die only the Iron islands would be ready for another war. That could not be allowed to happen.

"Tell the men we are too continue marching towards the city, we help the rebels put out the fire, anything else will have to be decided at a later date." Tywin gave the order, immediately Kevan moved to carry it out. Within minutes, the horn was blown, and the thousands of knights from the Westerlands moved to march down the Gold road. Kevan returned to him, and the two sat besides each other, staring at the city from atop their mounts.

"Brother, will you be okay. I can understand if you're worried for jaime, but you have to trust in his ability's"

"Jaime's a fool, but he's the best warrior in the seven Kingdoms, he will survive, even if he has to kill to do so.I have never doubted Jaime's abilities, I only doubted his reasoning." Tywin confirmed, he nodded his head slightly as he did, his eyes never leaving the city. "I'm just now realizing, Aerys has won this war. With 4 kingdom's at his gate, with not an ally in sight, he somehow found a way to steal victory from his enemies."

"You almost sound like you respect him." Kevan accused.

"Never. If you have to burn down your own city to win a war, you're a fool. There is no exception, Aerys is mad, I just never believed it to this extent. There's not a man in these seven kingdoms who wouldn't kill Aerys after this. The Targaryen name will be cursed for generations to come, and any man trying to take back his father's throne would be hard pressed to find an ally in these seven kingdoms"

"True, it would be difficult for any Targaryen to find support in Westeros," Kevan emphasized westeros, but otherwise continued speaking." Yet, I'm forced to wonder, what do we do with the man himself. Say Aerys finds a way to survive this mess, Targaryens are immune to fire, are they not? What if he plans to burn out his enemies, and simply walk away from the mess he created?"

"A common misconception to be sure, but Targaryens are not immune to anything. They have a resistance to fire, but burn them at the stake, and I assure you they won't survive. However if Aerys does survive, he will hang from the ruins of the Red keep. He dies, there is no way around it, even if he was the only King to get out of King's Landing, he dies. No one will stand for his survival, even the Ironborn and the wildlings understand the concept of not killing your own allies.

"If he asks for a trial by combat?

"We feed him to the lions."

 **I had literally no intention to kill off Howland Reed when i began writing this chapter. I had little plans for him to begin with, and when I began writing Eddards POV, I realized it would be a copout to keep him alive.**

 **That being said, I know both Eddard and Robert fought on the frontlines in battles before this, but that was without Jon Arryn around. The one time they did fight on the frontlines with Jon Arryn and, they both nearly died to Rhaegar.**


	7. Update

I am not happy with how I wrote this story, I believe I made several notable mistakes. For one my grammar and spelling in some chapters are atrocious. What I am going to do is simply rewrite this story, with several major and minor changes. The First being that I'm going to finish writing the first part of this story. That should roughly be 15 chapters and an additional chapter from the POV of a Maester that will act as an overview for the greyjoy rebellion

 **Update:** This Story is not dead I assure you, 8/1/2017.


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